


Turn Myself to Face Me

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018), Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant ish, Canon Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Dissociation, Domesticity, First Kisses, Flirting, Get together fic, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Living Together, M/M, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Sexual Tension, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-19 23:56:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19982674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: David's life changes quite a lot after he meets Gary Unwin.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's FINALLY here! I've been working on this fic since I binged Bodyguard at the start of June! I've seen some other Buddsy fics, and knew I had to write my own. This was originally just going to be the first chapter as an open-ended one shot, but then the story wouldn't stop flowing, so what you get instead is a four chapter-plus-epilogue thing, that I may or may not add to at some point in the future! 
> 
> Some notes: This is compliant with the first Kingsman film, but does not take anything from Golden Circle into account. It is set post-Bodyguard, which I only watched once and only payed like, 75% attention to, so it's kinda vague as far as recalling details from the show, haha. This fic focuses heavily on David's PSTD and his healing process, and Eggsy's role in that. Also, David refers to Eggsy as 'Gary' for the entire fic, just as an FYI in case that might be distracting. 
> 
> This fic is complete, I'm just working on editing the last two chapters, but I've decided to start posting it! 
> 
> Anyway, HUGE thanks to Hannah for beta'ing this beast, and Pip for squeeing about it constantly, and everyone in my discord who encouraged me, and friends from the Madderton fandom that also encouraged me!! This isn't the longest fic, but it's been a serious labor of love. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything changes when David wanders into a coffee shop.

“Bruv, you gonna order or not?” 

David blinks. He looks around him and wonders if it’s bad that he’s only _mildly_ alarmed that he’s in a coffee shop he doesn’t recognize. Worse still, he has no recollection of how he got here. A quick glance over his shoulder tells him at least no one’s being held up by his dissociating—no one except the unimpressed barista behind the counter. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Got distracted.”

“Clearly,” the man drawls, a chav sort of accent drawing out the two syllables in a not-quite-condescending way. It’s almost charming, even. “You gonna order?” 

“Uh. Black coffee.”

“That’s it?” The man raises an eyebrow. The name tag pinned to his chest reads ‘ _Gary_.’

“Aye, that’s all.”

“Took ya fifteen minutes to decide on a black coffee,” Gary mutters as he stabs at the cash register. 

“Sorry,” David says. He can feel his ears burning with embarrassment. 

Gary looks up after a moment. He looks guilty, a blush on his cheeks. “Shit, sorry guv. You prob’ly got a lot on your mind.” He shakes his head and mutters something David doesn’t quite catch, but sounds like _“fuckin’ tosser.”_ David assumes it’s aimed at Gary himself, and not him. 

David snorts. “Not quite.” 

Gary hums thoughtfully. He reaches for a cup and scrawls across it, pausing only to ask, “Name?”

“Budd,” David replies on reflex. He should’ve said ‘David.’ Not like he’s on duty or anything. 

“You fuckin’ serious?” 

David finds himself smiling. “Indeed I am.”

“Alright, mate. _Bud_ , fuckin’ hell.” He scrawls the name, with one ‘d’ on the side of the cup, before sending it down the line to his coworker. “That’ll be a two quid.” 

David’s already fishing the coins out of his wallet when he realizes, “You never asked me what size I wanted.”

At the other end of the counter, his coffee is already waiting. It appears to be about the size of his head. 

“Thought you could use the biggest size we got. Only charging you for a small, though. Don’t tell no one.”

David nods. “Right, o’course.” Gary takes his money and drops the change in the tip jar. David adds an extra two pounds before shuffling over to where his coffee waits. He grabs his coffee and takes a long sip, uncaring for how it slightly scalds his tongue. It’s good coffee at least, even if he doesn’t know how he ended up here. Rich and deeply flavored, not burnt like Starbucks tends to be. 

He’s still feeling a bit ruffled when he practically collapses into an overstuffed armchair. The music overhead is soothing and the rumble of people talking isn’t so loud that David can’t handle it. He sinks into the chair, sips his coffee, and loses himself in the pleasant monotony. He’s not sure how long it is before his coffee is barely more than dregs and his phone is buzzing in the pocket of his jeans.

 **From: VICKY  
** _Haven’t heard from you today. Kids said you walked out early this morning after making them breakfast. You alright?_

Well, that answers some of David’s questions. Not a great start, but he’s had worse days. He fires off a quick response of _“grabbing coffee”_ before pocketing his phone again. When he manages to crane his neck up, Gary is standing beside his chair.

David thinks his therapist would call it “progress” that he doesn’t immediately jump to his feet and try to take out the poor man with a well-aimed hit to his solar plexus. 

“Refill?”

David looks at his cup and shakes it. Definitely empty. “Uh, yeah. That’d be nice.” He starts to reach for his wallet but Gary shakes his head.

“On the house,” Gary says, plucking the empty cup from David’s hand. “Hang tight, yeah?” 

With that, he’s off, gray apron swishing around him. 

Left alone—or as alone one can be in the middle of a crowded coffee shop—David grips the armrests of his chair and focuses on the feeling of stitched fabric beneath his fingertips. It helps ground him, even as his thumb twitches uneasily, still sore in that phantom-sense from the dead man switch. David breathes in deeply, exhales slowly through his nose. His grip on the chair loosens fragmentally. 

“You alright, bruv?” Gary asks with a new cup of coffee, “Bud” written across the side in blocky letters.

“Adjusting,” David replies shortly. He unlatches his hand from the chair to accept the drink. “Don’t mind me.” 

Despite the dismissal, Gary sinks to a crouch. David can’t bear to look at him. He sips at his coffee and pointedly does not look at the handsome young barista, with wide blue eyes staring at him intently. “You sure? I know some ace meditative techniques.”

A laugh bursts from deep in David’s chest. “Really now?” The man in front of him hardly seems the type, in loose-fitting jeans and a crooked-collar polo. There’s something reassuring about it, the notion that this man might have some kind of idea what David’s feeling. 

Gary grins at him, a lopsided and charming thing. “You probably know ‘em all.” There’s something in his eyes, something familiar but gentle. “Seein’ as how you’re doing some pretty intense breathing exercises already.” 

David smiles weakly. “Yeah. Thanks anyway,” he says. 

“You wanna talk about it? My break’s in a few minutes.”

David blinks. “Wouldnae you rather…do _literally_ anything else?” 

Gary laughs. “Nah, mate. You look like you could use a friend. Give me ten, yeah?” 

David nods, dazed, and watches Gary slip back behind the counter. He helps customers easily, swiftly, moving about the cafe with a grace David could hardly hope to replicate. He sips his coffee, taps his foot, drums his fingertips against the soft stitching of his chair. He relaxes again in increments, and by the time Gary returns, David feels less like fleeing. 

Gary’s got an iced drink of some sort sweating in his grip as he sits down on the coffee table in front of David. “So, what is it then? Army? Marines?” 

David blinks back at him. “Uh, it’s a long story.” 

Gary shrugs. “I got time.”

“Fifteen minutes, I assume?” 

“Just about. Boss won’t care if I’m a bit late.” 

“It’s fine,” David says. He contemplates, for a moment, telling this stranger everything. He shakes his head. “Long story,” he says again.

“Alright. Wanna hear about my fucking day?”

David looks at Gary and says, “Please.” 

David leaves not long after Gary returns to his shift. Vicky frets over him when he returns home, which is fair, since he’s been gone nearly all day. She doesn’t do anything other than watch him with worried eyes up until the sun has set and it’s time for the kids to go to sleep. He helps tuck the kids into bed and lets Vicky corner him in the hallway after.

“What happened?” 

David swallows his pride. “Dissociated,” he says. “Ended up in a coffee shop. Easier to spend the day there than doing anything else.”

Vicky’s expression softens. “Was it good?”

“Coffee was incredible,” David says. Vicky’s look is unimpressed and David laughs. “There was a, ah…Barista. He was nice. Offered tae talk me down.”

Vicky touches his cheek gently. “Yeah?”

“Didnae take him up on it.” David smiles, a bit rueful. “Didnae want tae burden him with it all.”

“Oh, David.” 

“Might go back.”

“You should,” Vicky says. When his gaze drops, she takes him gently by the chin and forces him to look at her. “Even if he just ends up being a friend, it’s nice, right?” 

“Right.” David nods and tries to quell the hammering of his heart. “You’re right.”

“I know,” Vicky says. She pats his cheek. “Come to bed?” 

David nods and lets her lead him to the bedroom. 

Gary looks surprised to see him the following morning. David grins sheepishly and raises his hand in greeting. There are a few people in front of him, but it’s not just David’s imagination that Gary only has eyes for him as the line inches closer to the counter. Eventually, David makes it up to the front and orders another black coffee.

“Nuh uh,” Gary says. “Go sit, I’ll bring you sum’fin.” 

David doesn’t argue. He leaves the counter and heads toward the same corner from yesterday; grateful to find his armchair from yesterday free, he collapses into it. He fiddles with his phone for a moment but pockets it when a shadow looms over his chair. He looks up. 

“Thanks.” he says, accepting the drink from Gary. It warms his hands and almost feels like it warms him to his core, without even taking a sip.

When he does finally drink it, notes of cinnamon and hazelnut fill his mouth along with the same rich roast from the day before. David hums appreciatively. 

“Surprised to see you back,” Gary says. He reclaims his seat on the coffee table in front of David. “Thought you’d fuck off to whatever your routine day is.” 

“Don’ have much of a routine,” David admits. “Still readjusting.”

Gary nods seriously. “Feel you there, mate. S’not easy, izzit?” 

“Not at all.” David takes another long swig of coffee to fill the silence, comfortable as it is. “How’s your day going so far?” David asks, belated, feeling impolite.

Gary doesn’t seem to mind. “Not bad. No grannies threatening to set me up with their grandkids, this time.” David shares a laugh, remembering the story Gary told him yesterday. “Probably gonna be off early, actually. One of the gals needs extra hours, offered to swap.”

Something inside David’s chest wilts at that; he’d planned on spending the day here again, even got a new eBook on his phone to keep him occupied. He hopes his disappointment doesn’t show on his face, but Gary’s grin tells him otherwise. 

“Wanna catch a bite to eat, maybe a movie?” Gary asks.

For a moment, David is surprised by the boldness of the offer. It’s been a long time since he’s met someone new for a reason other than work. It’s been even longer since he last tried anything like _dating_. He’s out of his element. But Gary’s smile is sweet, his eyes gentle, and there’s no pressure. He could say no, and he’s sure Gary wouldn’t hold it against him. He doesn’t want to say no, even if like Vicky said he just becomes a friend. 

“Food, sure. Not so sure about the movie.” David thinks of being in the dark, surrounded by people, elbows brushing. He thinks of loud, sudden noises and how even the evening news music can startle him bad enough to drop things at the wrong moment. 

Gary nods easily. “A walk then? I swear, workin’ here don’t get me near enough fresh air.” 

“Tha’ sounds nice.” David gives him a smile. “When do ye get off?” 

“Give me two hours, yeah? I’ll come fetch ya.” Gary stands and reaches out but stops short of grasping David’s shoulder. Gary’s hand falls to his side and clenches into a loose fist. “If you gotta leave early or sum’fin, just holler, alright?” 

David nods and watches Gary return to the counter. He sips his coffee, still delicious and still warm, and pulls his phone from his pocket. No messages yet, probably because he told Vicky what he’d be doing, no cause for her to worry. He shoots her a message letting her know the plan and pockets his phone once more. He’s content to sit, lazing in his armchair and sipping leisurely at his coffee. 

The two hours go by in a comfortable blur; David’s nearing some kind of gentle doze by the time Gary’s in front of him.

“Sure you don’t need a nap, guv?” 

David laughs. “Nah, m’fine. S’a nice place, easy tae relax.” David stands and tosses his cup in the bin on their way out. Gary falls in step with him on the sidewalk; he’s got a sideways tilted cap on and a garish yellow and black jacket thrown over his regular clothes. 

“Yeah, good to have a place like that.”

David nods and walks a hair slower to let Gary lead the way. 

“A chippy alright with you?”

“Perfect,” David agrees. 

They lapse into quiet as they walk, Gary’s hands shoved in his jacket and David’s flitting a bit nervously at his sides. For as long as it’s been since he dated, it’s maybe been longer since he had a true friend. His mind is a bit of a mess, trying to parse through the signals, the smiles, Gary’s eyes and his kindness. It makes him dizzy but not in an entirely bad way. 

“You good?” Gary asks when they come across the chippy. David nods, though he realizes a few moments too late that the area is a bit more crowded. Louder than the polite murmur of the coffee shop, bustling even for a small part of the city. “Hang back, yeah?” Gary does pat his shoulder this time. It’s a halting, stilted gesture, but David appreciates it all the same. He takes a few steps back, enough to get him out of the crowd, and nods for Gary to go on. 

Takes a bit but it’s worth it when the hot, greasy scent of fish and chips comes wafting closer with Gary. He’s got two baskets in his hands and David accepts one. 

“Figured you might not mind sharing a soda,” Gary says. David noticed the cola tucked under his arm the moment Gary broke from the crowd.

“Alright,” David agrees. Eventually they find a bench for themselves. “Thanks, by the way. Feel like I owe ye one.” 

“Nah,” Gary says, shaking his head. “Just doin’ a solid for a mate, right?” 

David chews and swallows his bite of fish slowly, even though his first instinct is to inhale sharply and promptly choke on the battered goodness. “Right.”

Gary looks at him, no doubt because of his belated pause. “Sorry if that’s a bit much. Just felt like…” Gary taps his foot anxiously, sneaker _thud thud thudding_ on the concrete. “Like we get each other, y’know?”

“I know.” David rushes to say it, lest Gary think they’re on different pages. “I feel it too.” 

Gary’s smile is blinding. “Brill,” he says. He raises a piece of fish and waits for David to raise one as well, before tapping his food to David’s and saying, “Cheers, mate.” 

Silence returns to them but it’s like a soothing balm. Gary jostles him at times, so ravenous in his eating, but the companionable touches are nice. Vicky is still so scared to touch him sometimes. The most consistent interaction he gets is from the kids, who aren’t afraid of him, even on his bad days. This is something else, something new. There’s a fluttery feeling in his gut that even the grease from the chips can’t weigh down.

They pass the soda back and forth until it and their baskets are empty. Gary gets up long enough to bin their trash before joining David on the bench again. 

“Offer’s still open, by the way,” Gary says after a while. “If you need someone to listen.”

“I do have a therapist, ye know.”

Gary only laughs. “That ain’t the same, n’I think you know it.” He bumps shoulders with David. “Don’t gotta or nothin’, just wanted to make sure you know.” 

“Thank you.” David’s voice is a traitor to his own feelings, hushed and gentle. “For today, an’ yesterday.” 

Gary shrugs. “No trouble at all.” 

They sit there for a while. David gets the sense that Gary’s letting him set the pace, for which he’s grateful. He’s still focusing on slowing himself down in life: not rushing into things, thinking before he speaks, not fretting over his next move when all he wants to do is sit still. Eventually, he does start to feel a bit restless; when he stands Gary hops to his feet as well. 

Gary leads the way but never lets David fall out of step with him. They don’t talk but David finds himself itching to, particularly once they reach the nearby park. It’s nothing like the modest patch of grass he found himself in months ago, but the feeling of soft green and soil under his feet still sets him unsteady. 

“I donnae if you watch the news,” David starts. He curses himself internally; he hadn’t wanted to start off with his own trauma, of all things. But now that he’s started, his mouth doesn’t seem content to stop. “But I was, ah...strapped into a vest, with a DMS.” His left hand trembles. 

Gary stops walking abruptly and says, “Holy _fuck_ , that was _you_?”

The shock in the other man’s eyes and words is enough to make David cackle. The burst of laughter feels like a weight lifting off his chest and shoulders. 

“Aye,” he confirms. It’s crazy to think he can crack a smile about it now. “I’m still adjusting, like I said.” 

“I remember it being all over the fuckin’ news. I was out of the country at the time, but _fuck_. Me mum was callin’ me up, shoutin’ about it. She don’t even live near that area, but you know how mums are.”

David ducks his head and smiles. He kicks at the ground, scuffing the front of his sneakers. Gary shuffles in closer, enough that his own, rather pristine sneaks are in David’s line of sight. 

“I was in the Marines,” Gary offers. “Not quite the same as a fuckin’ DMS, but, y’know, I’ve seen some shit.” 

David nods without looking up. “Bit young,” he says, smirking. It’s as much a taunt as it is a subject change, and Gary allows it. 

“Oi!” Gary bumps against him and sends him leaning on one leg, laughing. David feels warm down to his toes at the easy fun. He even feels okay to shove Gary back, a playful thing, and then they’re off like a couple of schoolboys in the yard. Chasing around the park and shoving at each other; they’re both laughing loud and drawing stares and when they eventually collapse back onto the grass, uncaring for the stains, David feels lighter than he has in years. 

“I gotta get goin’ soon,” Gary says after checking his phone. “You gonna be back at the shop tomorrow?” 

“Should be, just a bit later.”

“Therapy,” Gary says and David nods. He doesn’t ask how Gary seems to know him so well already. “Alright, I’ll come in a bit later too then.” 

So that becomes David new routine: he wakes up, usually helps with the kids and breakfast and such. He showers, if he’s feeling up to it. Kisses Vicky goodbye if he remembers and it’s not an ungodly hour. If she’s awake enough, she’ll give him a private and teasing smile. David tries and fails not to blush. 

Then he gets on a bus that takes him within three blocks of the coffee shop, and he walks the rest of the way. By the time he reaches the shop, he’s thirsty but excited. Gary’s always behind the counter, even on the days David shows up early or late. It’s like somehow, the other man just _knows_. David doesn’t know how, and something in the back of his mind tingles with uncertainty, paranoia, but David wills it away. 

He lets Gary pick his drinks. Gary sits with him on all his breaks, talks to him sometimes but other times sits in silence. Some days they go for walks, grab food, find a bench and lean against one another. Gary tells him halting tidbits of his own life; all of it’s spoken in such a way that David’s sure the other man isn’t telling him the whole story, but David wills that uncertainty away, too. 

It’s been two months when David decides it’s time for a change. Gary’s looking especially tired and the bags under the man’s deep blue eyes are almost enough to deter David. But then Gary smiles at him, easy as you please, and he’s already writing “Bud” on a cup even though he knows plenty well how to spell David’s name by now. 

Gary joins him a few minutes after David’s got his drink, something sweet and iced. “Mornin’,” Gary says around a yawn, falling into his usual spot on the coffee table. 

“Go out with me,” David blurts before wincing. 

Gary’s eyes widen comically, same as they did the day David told him about the bomb. “Wot?” 

“Sorry.” David winces again. “No, I’m not sorry, uh.” 

Gary’s still wearing the same stricken expression. 

“Just, fuck.” David stands. “Forget it.” He almost sits again, but then the bell above the door chimes and leaving sounds like a great idea. 

He makes it as far as the lamppost outside before Gary catches him by the wrist. It’s a gentle, loose hold. David doesn’t wrench out of the grasp but instead turns slowly to face the other man.

“Yous forgot your coffee,” Gary says. He thrusts the plastic into David’s hand. 

“Right.” David looks down at the cup. “Sorry.”

“You forgot this, too.” And then Gary’s kissing him, just on the cheek, as light as the hold he has on David’s wrist. When he pulls back, Gary is grinning. “I’m off at half four, alright? You can come back inside, if you want.” 

The back of David’s neck burns. “Bit embarrassed,” he admits. 

Gary laughs. “I’ll fuckin’ say. You booked it like I was the feds trying to bust your ass.” Gary’s eyes are bright. “Dinner tonight, yeah? Somewhere simple.”

David nods. “I, uh. Yes, tha’ sounds. Good.”

Gary leans in, pauses for a moment for David to nod minutely, and brushes a kiss over the corner of his mouth. “Come back inside, keep warm.”

“It’s summer,” David replies inanely. 

Gary laughs right in his face. “Sure is, bruv.” 

David follows him back inside, the bells chiming above them. 

Gary drops a kiss to the top of his head at the end of his shift, and David looks up with a grin. In the face of David’s no doubt besotted smile, Gary says, “C’mon then, ain’t got all day.” He helps David to stand, bids his coworker goodbye with a wave, and then they’re off. The air is muggy but David hardly notices, because Gary is pressed close and their fingers are bumping with each step they take.

“Where’re we goin’?” He asks after they’ve walked two blocks without stopping. 

“Don’t matter to me,” Gary says, in a way that leaves _“as long as I’m with you”_ unspoken. “Fish n’chips?” 

“We do tha’ every time.” 

“So? They’re fuckin’ tasty.” 

David barks out a laugh. “C’mon, I think I’ve got a place.” He finally plucks up the courage to take Gary’s hand and tugs him along. It’s only another block or two before they find the little hole in the wall diner David scoped out before. He’s only had a few things off the menu, all of them pretty decent, but it’s somewhere new and still quiet.

He and Gary slip inside and a waitress with a tired smile greets them and shows them to a table. Menus in hand, once they’re seated, Gary hooks his ankle with David’s. 

“You wanna know sum’fin crazy?” Gary asks.

“Hm?” David asks. He’s got goosebumps running up his spine because Gary’s wearing highwaters and his ankle is bare against David’s. 

“I feel like…” Gary taps his fingers against his glass of water. “I dunno, we just fit, don’t we? And it’s crazy, in’it?” 

“Yeah.” David swallows. “I agree. It donnae feel real, sometimes. Can’ hardly believe it.” His left hand is shaking again; Gary’s eyes flick to it and the lines around his eyes gentle. “After everything...sometimes it feels like nothin’ will ever go back tae normal, ya know?” 

Gary nods. “I get ya, mate. I had…” He trails off; his gaze flits to the side for a moment and David forces himself not to ask. Gary continues eventually. “Had a tour one time. Lost good people, yeah? Been a couple’a years now and it’s still fuckin’ me up.”

They share a toneless laugh but it’s like a weight’s been lifted. Gary smiles at him, that crooked lovely smile, and David sucks in a sharp breath. The waitress comes back and takes their orders with the same smile and once the menus are out of the way and they’re left alone for the moment, a thickness fills the air.

But it’s not bad. David feels like he’s adrift in this tension and instead of being scared he only feels thrilled. 

Gary puts his chin in his hand, elbow braced on the table. “Tell me more about yourself, David.”

“Not much tae tell,” David admits. “Therapy is goin’ well, I s’pose.” 

“You gonna go back into security or whatever?” 

“Nah.” David fiddles with his cup. “Dunno what’s next, if I’m being honest.”

“You got options, no need to fret. Gotta take your time, figure shit out one day at a time.” 

“Yer right,” David says. “I know you are, it’s just…”

“Still not easy, bruv, I get you.” Gary shrugs, tilts his head from side to side to get it to crack. “You know what I just realized?” 

“What?” 

“We haven’t even exchanged phone numbers.” 

David blinks. “Oh. Shit, you’re right.” He looks up with a laugh. “Fuckin’ hell, how did we manage tha’?”

Gary laughs. “Dunno, pretty impressed if I’m being honest.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and thumbs at it while saying, “Specially for how often you was on your phone at the shop. Never even occurred to me to ask.” Gary’s gaze slides sideways again but snaps back to David quickly. “What’s your number?” 

David gives it to him and moments later, his phone buzzes with a new message. Feeling emboldened, David holds up his phone and snaps a pic of Gary and attaches it to his contact. Gary says, “Put an emoji with it, no not that one, uh, do the middle finger, yeah,” and David does, feeling like a teenager. 

The rest of the dinner passes without fanfare, but Gary never unhooks his ankle from David’s. By the time they’re actually leaving, there’s a chill in the air and Gary’s cheeks are flushed with laughter. It’s still a bit early but the lampposts above them flick on, prompting David to check his phone.

“Christ, it’s late.” He looks at Gary and swallows. “When did tha’ happen?”

“Probably round the same time I decided I wanted to kiss ya,” Gary replies swiftly. 

David blinks. “Oh, god.” His mouth is suddenly dry despite the several cups of water he sucked down over the course of dinner. 

Gary giggles. “Don’t gotta look so scared, mate. I ain’t gonna ambush ya. Unless ya want me to.”

“I do,” David says. “I just. Haven’t, in for-fucking-ever.” 

“Haven’t kissed someone?”

“That’s no’ my ex-wife or my former boss? No, honestly.” 

Gary steps closer. “No pressure.” 

“I know.” David’s face is burning, he can feel it; he wonders if Gary can feel it too, with how close he’s leaning. “Just nervous.”

“No need to be nervous. S’just me, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” David shudders. He doesn’t have to even lean down for Gary to reach his lips, which isn’t precisely a _new_ experience but _is_ one David hasn’t felt ages. 

Gary’s slow and gentle at first, as he has been with all things when it comes to David. He cups David’s jaw, thumbing over the light line of stubble that’s a product of David forgetting to shave this morning. Gary hums into the kiss and slowly, so carefully, walks David backwards until they’re against the brick wall outside the diner.

“God,” David hums and Gary smirks at him before leaning in for a deeper, sweeter, _hotter_ kiss. It’s almost achingly slow now and David feels antsy with how bad he wants it. His hands find Gary’s hips and the man makes an approving sound, presses close. “Fuck, Gary.”

“Yeah, David, that’s it.” Gary bites his bottom lip before pulling away, leaving David to tongue the sting. “God, you’re unreal.” 

“Me?” David asks with a laugh. “You…” He shakes his head and he ends up brushing his mouth along Gary’s palm. There’s the unintended side effect of Gary’s thumb gliding over his lip, and in a burst of playfulness, David bites at it. 

Gary laughs. “Cheeky,” he says with a wink of his own. He opens his mouth to say something and David’s only slightly embarrassed to admit he’s hanging on Gary’s every word.

Except Gary doesn’t speak. He looks off to the side and grimaces.

“Gary…?” 

“I gotta go,” Gary says and at least he sounds like he hates that fact. “Fuck, I’m so fuckin’ sorry, bruv.” After a moment’s hesitation, Gary surges forward and kisses David again. “I’m so sorry, I ‘ave literally never wanted to do something less in my life than leave you right fuckin’ now.” 

David swallows, feels like he might swallow his tongue. “That’s alright,” he says. 

“No, it fuckin’ ain’t.” Gary steps back. “I’m gonna call you a cab, kay? S’not safe for you to be wandering ‘round by yourself.”

“I’m a grown man, Gary,” David points out.

“For me own peace of mind then, right?” Gary’s already got his phone to his ear. 

David tunes out as he orders the cab, too out of sorts to argue. The bus system is probably still running but by the time David’s resurfacing from his daze, there are headlights coming up the road and Gary looks like he’s about to tear his hair out. 

“Hey, hey, hey, Gary, it’s fine.” He reaches out and cups the back of the other man’s neck. “Go. Do what ye need tae do. I’ll be fine.”

Gary looks at him with a look that, for their two months of back and forth, David’s never seen. It’s heavy and intense, heated but not inherently sexual—although David does have to suppress a shiver. Gary sighs. 

“I really am so fuckin’ sorry.”

“I know.” 

Gary darts up and kisses David’s cheek. “Text me when you get home, alright? So I know you’s safe.” Gary’s hand tightens in the fabric of David’s tee for a moment and then he’s gone, booking it down the sidewalk like his arse is on fire. 

The cab reaches David not long after; it’s not from any company that he recognizes but the driver rolls down the window and says, “David Budd?” David nods and slides into the backseat. 

The drive back to his and Vicky’s home is blessedly short and he’s relieved to see the kitchen light still on when he clambers out of the cab. He grabs his wallet but the driver waves a hand.

“Already paid for, sir. Have a good evening.” With that, the window rolls up and the car speeds away. 

Dazed, David walks up to his house and Vicky opens the door before he reaches the front step.

“You’re letting all the cold out,” he chides without feeling.

“What happened?” 

David waits until he’s inside, stripped of his coat, and Vicky’s pressing a warm mug of tea into his hands. “Something came up, he had tae dash.” He shrugs. 

“Are you okay?”

David laughs. “I’m fine, Vick. Things happen. ‘Sides, I got his number.”

“What?” Vicky giggles. “You didn’t!”

David hides his grin in his next sip of tea. 

Gary’s back behind the counter the next morning. David had contemplated not showing up, wondering if it would be best to lay low for a few days. But the urge to see Gary again, and the urge to keep with routine, was too strong. There’s hardly a line the next morning and Gary smiles tiredly when David makes it to the counter.

“Sorry ‘bout last night,” Gary says.

“Hello tae you too,” David replies.

“Oh, fuck.” Gary slaps a hand over his own mouth. “Sorry.”

David laughs, wonders if Gary will be up for another date tonight, and that’s about the time the bomb goes off. 

There’s a few split seconds before where David catches it—the creak of the wall giving way, the scent of sulfur filling the air, intense heat fanning out across the room—before the wall actually bursts wide open and sends David flying. Gary crashes against the edge of the counter and David knows without thinking that there are at least a few civilian casualties. There weren’t many people in the shop to start with but anyone near the wall is at the very least hurt. David struggles to stand and all the while does a head to toe run down. No broken bones and no sprains; the back of his head is bleeding and he can feel his pulse thudding inside his skull. No trouble breathing aside from the smoke. “Fuck,” he breathes. 

“David?” Gary’s calling out. Through the smoke he catches sight of a silhouette hopping over the counter and coming toward him. “You alright, mate?” 

“Fine, I’m fine,” David says even though his ears are ringing. There’s a faint simmering of panic in his chest but he’s doing his best to ignore it. “We need tae check for survivors, get ‘em out of here. Have you called 999?” 

“Help is on the way,” Gary says. “You gotta get outta here, bruv.”

David tries to step around Gary, saying, “We need tae help—?” But Gary takes him by the shoulders and even through the smoke David can make out the details of his face. “What?” 

“You have _got_ to leave, David, _please_.” Gary leans in and kisses him; it tastes like smoke and soot and ash. “Please.”

“I’m not,” David starts, stops, says, “I’m no’ just leaving you!” 

Gary opens his mouth but something behind David must catch his eye because Gary shouts, “Get down!” And then he’s yanking David behind him and putting his back to what David realizes are _gunshots_. 

“Fuck!” David shouts and drops to the ground. He holds his hands over his ears and ducks his head and tries to clear his thoughts except the gunshots are getting closer and there’s just no fucking way Gary is still standing.

But David looks up and there Gary is, wincing but standing, not bleeding save for the cut across his forehead. “David, love, you have _got_ to fucking bail.”

“No,” David says. 

“Swear down, I’ll explain everything if you just get your arse outta here. I don’t want nothin’ happening to you.” 

David swallows. “But.”

“Told you, help is on the way. I’ll be fine. Ain’t bleeding, am I?” 

David doesn’t point out the cut on his forehead. “I can help,” he says.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ stubborn, anyone ever tell you that?” Gary leans down and kisses David hard, sweet. “Get the fuck out of here and I’ll call you in two hours, tops. You gotta trust me, yeah? I’ve earned that, haven’t I?” 

“Of course,” David breathes back, despite all the suspicions and paranoia that have eaten at him over the course of knowing this young man. He trusts him entirely. It’s a strange feeling David still isn’t quite used to. 

Another kiss and David swallows an emotion that feels like _goodbye_. “Two hours,” Gary says. Another explosion sounds behind them, followed by the sound of more gunfire. “Maybe three, but that’s it.” 

“Okay.” David stands slowly with Gary’s help. “I’ll text you my address.”

“Already got it, bruv. Just _go_.” Gary hesitates a moment longer, lays his hand over David’s heart, then turns away and walks right into the smoke, right toward the last explosion and toward the sound of gunfire. 

Against his better judgement, he leaves through the bent front door, smashed in by debris. The sidewalk outside is clear except for the sound of incoming helicopters and police sirens. David walks the opposite way with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He walks until the sirens are but distant hums and hails the first cab he sees. 

No one is home when he stumbles out of the cab. Vicky is at work and the kids are at school. David showers first; he hangs his head under the spray until it runs clear, all blood-pink and soot-gray gone. He touches the back of his head gingerly but his fingers don’t come away sticky. Once he’s dressed in old, loose trackies and a threadbare shirt, he retrieves an icepack from the freezer and sits himself on the couch. He doesn’t look at his phone, and doesn’t check the time, and doesn’t turn on the television. 

Eventually, his phone chimes; it’s a message from Vicky. 

**From: VICKY** _  
please tell me you weren’t at that shop today_

 **To: VICKY  
** _Not today. Take the kids out tonight, yeah?_

 **From: VICKY** _  
David?_

 **To: VICKY** _  
Please_

 **From: VICKY  
** _You’ll tell me later?_

David fires off an affirmation and Vicky agrees to take the kids out for dinner. He doesn’t tell her how long to stay out but hopes it won’t be too late. Kids will have their usual early morning tomorrow morning, and David doesn’t want them up late because he was waiting for some man he barely knows—but cares so deeply for—to show up. 

The sky is turning warm pinks outside when there’s a knock on the door. David’s off like a shot and doesn’t bother to peer through the peephole before wrenching the door open.

Gary stands on his doorstep. He’s charred and more than a little worse for wear. “Bruv,” he says in greeting. 

David steps back to let him in. “What…” Gary’s still covered in grime and he’s definitely bleeding from more than just the cut on his head: he’s got a steady trickle staining his shirt and his knuckles are raw and red. He’s got sleek black glasses on, clear lens, and they’re the most pristine part about him. “Christ, Gary, what the hell happened?” 

Gary steps right into David’s personal space and kisses him. It’s warm, soothing, and definitely not the appropriate thing to do but that’s not stopping David from returning the kiss with a desperate fervor. “Long story,” Gary says with a twinkle in his eye. 

“I told you my long story.”

“Not the whole thing,” Gary points out. A pause, then, “If I tell you I have to kill you?”

“I’d enjoy seeing ye try.”

Gary grins. “If I tell you, I’ll have to erase your memory.” 

David simply arches an unimpressed eyebrow. 

Gary sighs. His gaze slides to the side, lights gleaming off his glasses, and he says, not to David, _“Fuck you mate, I’m doing it.”_

David blinks. Gary looks up at him and cups his face. “Gary,” David says if only to fill the silence. 

Gary leans in again and kisses him. It’s not a deep one but it is tender, wrought. David melts into it with all the exhaustion of his already not-especially-long day. Gary keeps kissing him until his thoughts are wandering almost far enough to forget the explosion even happened.

Gary seems to sense it. “David,” he says. “I’ve got a question for you.” Gary’s blue eyes are bright and wide and pin David with their intensity. 

David nods. 

“Have you ever heard of Kingsman tailors?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the coffee shop, things move pretty fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who liked the first chapter!! I hope y'all like this one as well! This chapter speeds up in pace a bit, just a heads up! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Needless to say, David is _very_ fucking confused. 

He’s in some incredibly posh manor. _One that could put the Queen to shame_ , he thinks. He’s surrounded by several people in bespoke suits; one of the people is Gary except he’s in his outfit from the coffee shop and everyone’s calling him “Eggsy.” They’re all shouting and stomping and idly, David thinks he ought to be panicking, what with all the noise and everything, but he’s really just caught between numb and confused. His ears are still ringing a bit from the explosion at the coffee shop but at least the cut at the back of his head has been properly stitched up. 

Gary’s sporting a shiner David hadn’t noticed in the low light of his foyer. He’s spitting mad, an emotion David’s never seen on the cool, unflappable young man. He’s screaming in the face of a tall bald bloke and a stockier, curly-haired man with a scar over one eye. At Gary’s side is a beautiful young lady, short but strong, with a hard pull to her lips and her ponytail drawn back so tight it could kill a man. 

David takes a sip of his water, offered to him by a man named _Dagonet_ of all things. No one’s spoken to him much since Gary whisked him away from his house—giving him just enough time to leave a note for Vicky and the kids—and into a sleek black car like the one that had given him a ride home the night of their date. He looks around at the ornate, rustic office. The walls are lined with paintings of people David doesn’t recognize and everything feels just a hair too stuffy. 

The panic’s catching up with him now, he realizes. The shouting has blended into a singular droning noise and he’s painfully aware of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, _tick tick ticking_ endlessly. David spares a glance at Gary who’s slamming his hands on the desk of the scarred man, at the girl who’s placing a soothing hand on Gary’s shoulder. 

David moves silently, carefully. The chair makes no noise as he pushes away from the table and his footsteps are nonexistent as he pads over the rug to the window across from him. He knows the bald man has noticed him, and the lass, but Gary and the man at the desk are too wrapped up to notice a thing. 

David opens the window and leans forward, out to the fresh air. The night air is cool and the sun is still working on setting along the horizon. He holds the windowsill tight and breathes in, deep and slow. The panic ebbs away slightly. Eventually, David’s vision is clear and his thoughts are pleasantly empty, instead of suffocatingly so. 

It’s then that he hears Gary’s gentle voice say, “David?” 

He turns away from the window. “Aye?” 

“You alright, mate?”

David gives him a humorless laugh but feels bad for the flicker of hurt in Gary’s eyes. “I’m fuckin’ confused, Gary, I’ll tell ye that much.” 

Gary sighs. “I know, guv, I know. I’m sorry.” 

David shrugs; he doesn’t know what to say so he holds his tongue. 

“Do you wanna sit again?” Gary tries. “I know it’s not your lovely little armchair or nothing, but…” Gary trails off when David doesn’t react, before spinning away with a muttered, _“fuck.”_ David braces himself for more yelling but there’s only still silence. 

“Don’t stop on my account,” David says. He motions at the lot of them. “Carry on, what with the screaming and shite.” 

A laugh bursts from the girl’s lips. “I can see why you like him, Eggsy.” 

David doesn’t need her approval but it feels nice, nonetheless. She’s clearly a friend of Gary’s, and she nods at David with a kind smile. 

“You should’ve darted him.” The man behind the desk commands attention and Gary whirls around to face him with a snarl.

“I wasn’t gonna do that, fuckin’ told you that Harry, right from the get.”

“It’s _Arthur_.”

“This ain’t part of the mission!” Gary shouts. 

David moves and retrieves his glass of water before returning to the window. He leans against it and watches as Gary turns red in the face and screams, while the man behind the desk—Harry, evidently—sits calm and cool and collected.

“You know as well as I do that we don’t always follow protocol! You should’a darted me, right? That day in the Black Prince. And you didn’t, and look where we’s are now!” 

Harry’s gaze drops at that, his single good eye falling to the desk. “Just because it worked before does not mean—?”

“David’s different, alright?” Gary crosses his arms tight over his chest. “I ain’t dartin’ him, so either you do it and dart the last three months from my memory while you’re at it, or you leave it be. _Arthur_.” 

David takes a long sip. He’s even more confused now. Is the man’s name Harry or Arthur? He doesn’t dare ask at the moment; maybe Gary will tell him later. And maybe Gary will tell him why on Earth people keep calling him ‘Eggsy.’ 

Harry hasn’t spoken since Gary’s last outburst. The silence is starting to grate on David’s nerves and the hurt swirling on Gary’s expression coupled with the disdain in Harry’s eyes makes David want to lob the glass in his hand at the prick’s face. He holds the glass tighter instead. 

“I understand, Eggsy, you know I do,” Harry-or-Arthur says eventually. “But this…” The man’s gaze flicks to David. “There has to be consequences.” 

“Like wot?” Gary snaps.

“Paperwork, for one,” the bald man chimes in. David swallows a laugh. “So much fuckin’ paperwork lad, yer gonna have papercuts up to your hairline from drowning in it.” His Scottish burr is thick and it’s not like a sense of _belonging_ or _familiarity_ blooms in David’s chest, but it makes him a touch less apprehensive of the man.

“Non-disclosure agreements.” He seems like a Harry, not an Arthur, David decides. Harry continues, “We’ll have to place him under surveillance, make sure he doesn’t tell anyone. I doubt Sergeant Budd wants to come work for us, after all that he’s been through, so what we did for you, Eggsy, is clearly out of the question.” 

David’s keeping a list of questions in his head but wonders if he ought to write them down. Could he ask them for a notepad and paper, maybe? Or would that ruin the moment? 

All of his confusion is melting down like gold in a kiln, boiling and bubbling up to anger and irritation that threatens to choke him. He’s not _that_ angry, not truly. He’s confused and out of sorts; he wants to go home and hug his kids and he’d like to kiss Gary again, maybe, if he can get some answers while he’s at it. He wants to scream and yell and claw his way out of this room that’s getting smaller by the second but he swallows the urge like swallowing bile. 

“Fuck, David, mate.” Gary’s in front of him suddenly. His hands are almost touching David’s biceps but he’s waiting to touch, waiting for permission. David nods his head almost imperceptibly and Gary grips him tight, not a hug but a grounding grip. “Breathe, love, breathe. In with me, yeah? Out. In, and out.” 

David blinks as the panicked stars and blackened edges leave his line of sight. “Sorry,” he breathes.

“Stop apologizing.” Gary smiles weakly at him. “You ain’t done nothing wrong.”

David blinks back at him. Again, he’s at a loss. Doesn’t know what to say because cracking a joke sounds wrong and lashing out in anger sounds even worse. Eventually, mostly because he knows all the people in the room are staring at him, he manages to say, “I’ll sign an NDA if ye need me to. Whatever ye need.” 

Harry’s gaze is intensely scrutinizing. For a brief, crazed moment, David worries this is Gary’s father, though he can’t imagine these two behaving like this if that were the case. “I think Eggsy ought to have a talk with you first, so you know precisely what you’re getting into.”

“That would be appreciated, I’ll admit.” 

Gary huffs out a laugh. “I’m sure.” He rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Where can I take him?”

“Your quarters are fine, Eggsy,” Harry says. His tone has gentled, but David still wants to chuck the crystal cup at him, and hates himself for the urge a little bit. “Call me when you’re finished and Sergeant Budd has reached a decision. He should...I would like him to have a hand in this decision.”

“Didn’t care earlier,” Gary mutters. It’s by sheer kindness that Harry doesn’t respond—David knows because he can see the older man’s cheek twitch with his jaw clenching. 

“You’ve got two hours, Galahad,” Harry says, and something in his tone has gone steely and businesslike. Gary glares at him but nods. “Contact Merlin as well. Lancelot, I believe your latest dossier is waiting for you.”

The girl nods and strides from the room first. The bald man, who David figures is Merlin, turns to Harry and puts his back to Gary and David. Gary holds out a hand and David takes it, despite all his uncertainty, and lets himself be led from the room. 

Now that he’s not quite so panicked, he can take in details of the manor they’re in. Long hallways with tall ceilings, everything polished and pristine. There’s not a soul in the corridors as Gary leads him down the hall to an elevator, up four flours and down three more halls. 

Finally they reach a door that has an honest to god fingerprint scanner for a lock. The door only opens after Gary presses his right thumb to the pad. David follows him inside and the words are out before he can properly think them over.

“Not how I imagined being in your bedroom for the first time.” 

A laugh bursts from Gary. “God, you must be knackered if you’re cracking jokes like that.” He shrugs out of his battered yellow and black jacket and drops it over the back of the chair. It needs a good dry-cleaning, what with the ash and blood stains on it. 

Speaking of, David’s eyes are drawn to the red spot on Gary’s side. He knows the wound is stitched up now, because it happened at the same time David’s own head wound got taken care of. But the dried blood on the pale white tee is stark and unsettling. 

“David,” Gary says. “You with me?”

“Can you change?” David asks, eyes squeezed shut. “Your shirt, it’s…” He looks away toward the window at the opposite side of the room. It’s pitch-black out, now. The only lights outside are the lampposts that surround the manor. 

“Back in a sec.” Gary squeezes his hand and then he’s off to a door at the side of the room, presumably a closet.

Alone for the first time since Gary came to his house, David isn’t sure if it’s easier or harder to breathe. He doesn’t feel trapped or locked in—despite knowing, realistically, that he is—but he’s still adrift and confused and _fuck_ , “Gary?”

“I’m coming, love, don’t worry.” True to his word, Gary walks back out while still dragging a new shirt over his head. This one is dark navy and looks stunning on him, though it’s hardly the time to be thinking such things. “I’m here, David, I’m here.” 

“I know,” David replies. 

Gary stares at him. “Come sit?” He asks, nodding to the set of chairs that sit in front of the fireplace. “I’ll explain everything, swear down.” 

“You did say that, in the coffee shop.” David goes to one seat, the one facing the door of the bedroom. Gary sits across from him. “Why does everyone call you Eggsy?” 

Gary laughs again. “That’s your first question?” 

“Aye.” David blinks back at him seriously, but gives in to the urge of a small grin. “And that man, behind the desk, is his name Arthur or Harry?” 

Gary snorts. “God, I…” He trails off with a blinding grin that he bites down on. “Alright, well. Everyone calls me Eggsy cuz that’s what I’ve gone by since I was a kid, yeah? Nickname that just stuck, I guess. Gary never much suited me anyways.”

“I think it suits you,” David says, immediately feeling ridiculous.

Gary blushes. “I don’t mind you callin’ me it, actually. Doesn’t seem so weird, coming from you.”

“Good, because I donnae think I could call you Eggsy with a straight face.” 

Gary smiles but the expression sobers quickly. “That man’s name is Harry Hart, but his codename is Arthur.”

David soaks in the information. “And yours is Galahad?” 

Gary nods. “And Lancelot, the bird from earlier, that’s Rox. She’s my best mate.”

“And here I thought I might be the one to hold such a title.”

“Shove off, you know you’re well more than just a best mate.” Gary leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “C’mon then, next question.” 

“Why don’t you just start from the beginning?” 

So Gary does. He talks about the day at the police station, and Harry Hart at the pub, and Kingsman and the process of becoming one and saving the world. 

“I remember that,” David interjects at one point. “I didnae have a phone at the time, and Vicky had just broken hers the morning before, hadn’t had a chance to replace it.”

“Fuckin’ lucky you were, then.” Gary pinches the bridge of his nose as his memories visibly come back to him. “It was gnarly. Nastiest shit I’ve seen in a long while.”

Gary continues from there, about blowing the bastards’ heads up and nearly getting sliced up by some gal named Gazelle, throwing a snippy one-liner at the baddy like a regular ol’ Bond. David would be impressed if not for the looming sense of dread in him.

“An’ then, get this, fuckin’ Haz is alive. Damn near shit myself when we found that out. Two folks from the states showed up on our fucking doorstep with one of our rainmakers and Harry fucking Hart sandwiched between them, looking fresh as can be. ‘Side from the scar, of course.” 

“Small price to pay for getting shot in the head.”

“Bulletproof glasses, they’re aces,” Gary says agreeably before continuing. He talks about the aftermath, of taking on the mantle of Galahad while Harry became Arthur. Eventually, he gets to where David’s story finally intersects: the coffee shop.

“So you were on a mission?” David asks, a touch incredulous. “Hardly a glamorous job for a super spy.”

“Glamor ain’t why we do it,” Gary says in a way that sounds carefully rehearsed. “Was boring as fuck till you showed up, looking like the only light in that head of yours was running on low.” Gary smiles fondly at him. “But yeah, it was a mission. We had gotten intel that something big was croppin’ up at the building next door and the shop was the easiest way for me to get close without seeming suspicious.” 

“Naturally.”

“You know most of what happened after I started. Only been there a week when you wandered in. I was still doing recon, but having you ‘round was nice.”

David allows himself a smile; he can’t help the blush that burns his cheeks. 

“Then the fuckers caught on somehow and blew up the damn shop.” Gary hides his face in his hands. “Couple’a civilians are dead, by the way. You’s was right.”

David’s throat constricts. He thinks of the speech, of Julia, of _oh god, how could I miss it_ , and says, “It wasnae your fault.” 

“I know,” Gary says and his voice is watery. “Still hard to accept, ya get me?” Gary doesn’t wait for an answer. “We got most people out, at least, got ‘em to hospitals. Maintained my cover pretty well, actually. Only had to dart the four poor folks that woke up while I was takin’ down the fucking goons.”

“What were they up tae, anyway?”

“Classified,” Gary says, only half-joking. “We put a stop to it, that’s what matters.” Gary holds his hand over his mouth for a moment, eyes shut and his whole body trembling. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this, David. You gotta believe me. It just...happened. You was there, and you looked like you needed someone, and I just wanted...wanted to be that someone, yeah?” 

“I don’t blame ye.” David doesn’t. The flurry in his chest is maybe finally starting to settle. “It’s your job, your duty. I know how that is.” 

“I know you do, and that’s all the more reason I should never have got you involved.”

“So why not dart me, then?” 

Gary’s expression turns rueful. “Too selfish for that. Liked you too much. Rox would take the piss outta me if she knew. Or better yet, she _will_ , when she finds out.” 

“So what do we do now, then?” David moves from the chair, fluidly ending up on his knees beside Gary’s chair. He curls one hand around Gary’s knee and the other finds the man’s sandy blonde hair, still grimy with sweat. “I sign the paperwork, right? NDAs and whatever else. Won’t tell a soul, you know that.” 

“I dunno why Harry’s being such a tit about the thing, he literally did the same to me,” Gary grumbles.

“Maybe he’s jealous.”

Gary snorts so hard it sounds painful. “ _Right_. Nah, I think he’s just frettin’. He does that, would worry himself into a coma if he weren’t so sick of being in ‘em.” Gary shakes his head. “I dunno what else they’re gonna want, but it might not be simple. Cameras in your house, or something. Not that we’d tell Vick or the kids what’s happening, but, precautions, y’know?” 

“What if I had my own place?” David asks, even though the very thought lances through him like ice. “I don’t… Don’ want that around Charlie and Ella, or Vicky. She’s had enough of that for a lifetime.”

“Mate, you don’t got a job,” Gary points out. “I don’t even know how you was affording all that coffee.”

“Well, see, a lovely young man kept giving it to me “on the house,” so my wallet didn’ mind one bit.”

Gary groans. “Merlin was up my arse the whole time ‘bout that, too. Frankly, I’m amazed he didn’t rat me out to Harry the second I brought you a free refill that first day.”

“It’s the burr,” David replies, earning himself another laugh. 

“I know you’s said you’d sign the paperwork, but if you don’t wanna do this, you don’t hafta.”

“I’m too selfish for that,” David mimics, and finally plucks up the courage to kiss Gary again. It tastes like smoke and blood, unpleasant memories come grappling to the surface of David’s thoughts. He pulls away without lingering, but his point has been made; he’s also rewarded with a dazed, lovely look on Gary’s face that says David caught him off guard.

“I’m sorry for Harry, earlier,” Gary adds after a moment. 

“I wanted to hurl my glass at his face. For how he spoke to you.” 

Gary’s face lights up in the first unburdened laugh in hours. “Fuck, David, you’re somethin’ else, mate.” Gary leans in and kisses his forehead. Against his skin, Gary says, “You really wanna do this?”

“Positive,” David says. And he is, even if he’s terrified down to his bones and even if he only has half a clue what he’s getting into. He reaches for Gary’s hands and holds them tight and repeats him a few times, just for good measure.

They’ve been quiet for a few minutes when David breaks the silence. “Should we go see Merlin and Harry?” 

“Probably.” Gary groans and squeezes his eyes shut. “Don’t much wanna.”

“Do it now, get it over with, we come back here and relax, yeah?” 

Gary smiles tiredly. “Sounds perfect, bruv.” He stands and helps David to his feet as well. “Let’s go then, I guess. I’ll ring ‘em on our way.” 

All things considered, the talk goes better than David expected. Harry’s clearly had time to cool his head, and even shakes David’s hand and thanks him for his service, which actually ranks as the strangest fucking thing that’s happened today. Merlin gives him a strange sort of smile, like he’s trying not to grin but can’t quite manage, though David doesn’t know for the life of him what’s so funny. 

They meet in the same room as before; Gary goes and reopens the window without a word before joining David in the chairs across from Harry. On the mahogany desk are several folders and stacks of paperwork; David’s head aches just looking at them.

“Before we begin,” Harry starts, “I assume you’re still choosing not to dart Sergeant Budd? And that he agrees with this?”

David says, “Aye,” at the same moment Gary flashes Harry two fingers. Were the moment less tense, he’d laugh. 

“Then we have a long few hours ahead of us.” But Harry’s got a quirk to his lips. David can’t quite read it but it doesn’t put him on edge. Doesn’t relax him, either, but leaves him feeling steadier than he did before. 

The first half of the paperwork is fairly standard. Gary signing contracts taking full responsibility for David and what should happen if he goes talking. David, meanwhile, signs contracts like the non-disclosure forms and all sorts of other legal things that he mostly understands. Doesn’t feel quite like signing his life away, but it doesn’t sit easy. 

It’s around the mark when David’s hand starts cramping that Harry says, “Now, onto the interesting things.”

Merlin’s smirk broadens. “Harry an’ I were discussing things, and we think the best course of action is to bring David intae the fold proper.” Gary opens his mouth, presumably to object, but Merlin cuts him off. “Not as an agent, lad, not unless he wants to go that route. We were thinking more along traditional lines, having him work at the shop with Dagonet, instead.” 

“I’m not a tailor,” David says. 

“We can fix that,” Harry says. 

“It’s actually pretty fun,” Gary admits. “Soothing, even.” 

“So I’d be…an _actual_ tailor?” 

“To start,” Harry continues. “We can see about other duties as you adjust. It can be something as simple as Dagonet, who runs the shop and occasionally acts as something of a valet.” At David’s blank stare, he carries on. “Your weapons scores are excellent, there’s no reason we couldn’t find other jobs around here for you as well. Trainer, handler, things that keep you in the fold and out of the field.” 

David stares at the papers in front of him but the words are swimming. 

“It’d be a respectable wage,” Merlin says, like David could give a single damn. “And a house of yer own, if ye want it.” 

“Could he stay with me?” Gary blushes as soon as the words leave his mouth.

“If he wants, aye.” There’s something like a warning in Merlin’s tone, cautionary. “But the option of his own place is just as easy, too. Could get it in the same neighborhood, even.” 

“What about my family?”

“Under Kingsman protection the same as Eggsy’s and Roxanne’s families. But none the wiser, of course. We’re very subtle when we want to be.” Harry says this all with a small smile.

Merlin snorts at this and Harry shoots him a long-suffering look, and it’s the most human they’ve both looked since David arrived. 

He puts the pen to the papers in front of him without further prompting. That process takes ages, too, and David’s half convinced it’d be less painful to just chop off his hand instead. Gary’s flexing his own hand by the end of it, too, wincing. 

“Well, gentlemen,” Merlin says. “I think that’ll just about do it. Medical recommends you both stay on the grounds for the rest of today, but you’re free to go tomorrow. David, if you have any questions, my number is in your phone.” Merlin leaves a bit abruptly after that. 

David turns his gaze back to Harry and finds the man looking straight back.

“Eggsy, could you give us a moment?”

Gary’s about to protest so David clears his throat. “S’fine. Just wait outside for me.” He reaches for Gary’s hand and squeezes it once. “Won’t be long.”

“Right,” Harry agrees. 

Gary stands and strides out of the room, pausing at the door to look at David, then Harry, before slipping out. 

“Sergeant Budd—?”

“Call me David, please. I’m not a sergeant anymore.” 

Harry stops but nods after a second. “David, then.” 

David nods. 

“You must understand that this is highly unusual for us. I have no doubt you’re a fine man. I’ve seen your file.”

“Course you have,” David replies before he can think to hold his tongue. 

“I just worry that Eggsy hasn’t thought this through.”

“Like you thought it through when you took down that gang in the pub, for Eggsy?”

Harry averts his gaze. “A lapse in judgement that I do not regret.” Harry sighs. “It didn’t help that the mission itself was something of a disaster through no fault of Eggsy’s. That’s never easy to deal with.”

“I know that very well.” 

Harry finally meets his gaze. “Yes, I suppose you do.” 

Silence. 

“Is that all?” David asks, not impolite but not quite kind, either. 

“That’s all,” Harry confirms. He extends his hand and David shakes it again.

Gary’s waiting in the hall for him. “David,” he starts.

“Is there a kitchen in this place?” David asks instead. He reaches out and tangles his fingers with Gary’s. “I’d kill for a cuppa.” 

Gary stares at him. “You’re fucking incredible, mate.” 

David grins. “Incredible enough for a cuppa?”

“And a biscuit, I think.” Gary kisses the corner of his mouth. “Come on, s’not far.”

An hour later, with stomachs full and both of them feeling sleepy, Gary says, “I can take the couch, if you’d like.”

David drags him in with a gentle hand in the collar of his shirt and tugs him over to the bed. “Nonsense. Although, I will need some pajamas.” 

“That can be arranged.” Gary kisses him chastely then escapes from his grasp. He ducks into the closet from earlier and comes out with two sets of pajamas, lovely jewel tones and silky material.

“These bulletproof?” David asks. 

Gary only smirks at him. 

It’s an unspoken thing as David slips into the attached bathroom with the set for him, deep maroon. He finally strips out of his grimy clothes and into the lovely pajamas and then faces himself in the mirror. He doesn’t look half as haggard as he maybe expected. Bolstered by his appearance and the calm in his heart, he digs his phone from his pocket and dials Vicky. 

_“Well thank god.”_

“Sorry,” David says with a wince. “Long day.”

 _“Busy?”_ Vicky asks with a laugh. _“The kids miss you. It was hard to get them down without you around.”_

“I’ll be by tomorrow, promise. Give ‘em a kiss for me, yeah?” 

_“Course, love. How’s Gary?”_

“He’s good. Tired.”

 _“Yeah you sound it, too. Turning in?”_ Vicky gives a yawn of her own. It’s nearing half ten, after all. 

“Aye.” David scuffs his foot along the tiled floor. “Sorry for disappearing so quick.”

 _“As long as you’re safe,”_ Vicky tells him, and David swallows the lump in his throat. 

“Of course.” 

They say their goodnights after a quick chat about Vicky’s day, how the kids are, what time David thinks he’ll be home tomorrow. David’s never been more grateful to shuffle out of the loo and fall onto the bed. Gary laughs somewhere at the opposite end of the room. 

“Shove over,” he tells David, lifting one side of the covers. “Bad enough you’re on my side of the bed.” 

David dutifully rolls over to make room, though he doesn’t move from what is evidently Gary’s side. Doesn’t seem to bother the man, since he gets under the heavy blanket with a contented sigh. 

“This alright?” Gary asks after a bit. 

“Just fine,” David says. His head is on the pillow and he can feel exhaustion tugging at his eyelids, warring with the adrenaline of the day and the night before catching up to him. “You?”

“...Better than I expected.” 

David looks up and stares at Gary’s profile. 

“Thought Merlin was gonna kill me for showin’ up on your doorstep. He wanted to dispatch Rox to take care of ya.” He fiddles with a stray thread on the blanket. “But I had to see you, yeah? I couldn’t just leave you hanging.”

David hums. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

Gary finally looks at him. “You sure this is fine, bruv? I know how it is, after some crazy shit happening. Sometimes sharin’ a bed is hard.” 

“It is,” David agrees. He lifts his arm and Gary moves into the space under his arm swiftly. “Don’t sneak up on me while I’m sleeping, and we’ll be fine.” 

Gary looks up at him. “Kick me out if you need to, yeah?”

“I’m not kicking out of yer own bed, Gary.” 

“Still weird to be called that.” 

David raises an eyebrow.

“Weirder that it don’ bother me none.” Gary’s fingers play with the buttons of David’s sleep shirt. “Not that I ever hated my name, right, but it never really felt like _me_. Dad started callin’ me Eggsy cuz I looked like a fucking bald egg till I was about four.”

David smiles and presses it against Gary’s hair. 

“I was always just Eggsy, and I liked it that way. Hated teachers callin’ me Gary in school. Marines it was Unwin, which was fine.” 

“Why _were_ ye going by Gary?” David asks when Gary’s speaking lulls. 

“Fucked up the first bit of my mission when I was applying for the coffee shop. Was supposed to be Dicky—or, well, Richard, “but call me Dicky,” yeah? But the bloke doing the interview caught me off guard right off the bat.”

“How’s that?” 

“Fuckin’ handsome he was, course.”

David laughs suddenly and can’t help kissing the crown of Gary’s head. “Gary does suit ye, I think. Can’t imagine calling you anything else.” 

Gary tilts his head back for a kiss that David is more than happy to oblige. “Happy you’re sticking around. Think it’ll be good for you. Especially since you ain’t got no cute barista to visit anymore.” 

“Trade off in my favor, I think.” David kisses him again, cupping his jaw. Gary’s got a day-and-a-half’s worth of stubble and the scrape is electric under David’s thumb. 

“You always been a sap, or is it the shock setting in?” 

David grins and kisses Gary once more instead of answering. Gary accepts it easily. His mouth opens under David and it’s sweet and slick, hot and languid. They’re both almost hilariously still aside from the fervor of their mouths and their roaming hands that never stray far from the other’s hair, necks, cheeks. 

They kiss until their eyes are fluttering shut and sleep is tugging at them. 

“David,” Gary says, more of a yawn. “Fuck.”

“Not tonight,” David says with a grin. 

“You’re such an arse.” Gary seemingly melts into the pillow and cracks one eye open at David. “I’m glad you wandered into that coffee shop, that day. Best accident in my life, just about. Top five, for sure.”

David falls asleep laughing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David's life in motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, another quicker paced chapter! 
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading and commenting, it means the world to me!

“Were ye serious?”

“’Bout what, love?” Gary asks. 

David can’t look at him as the car speeds along the deserted roadway. “Living with you.” 

“Course.” Gary’s hand on his thigh draws David’s gaze. “You can even have the spare room, if you’d like. Just somewhere for you to be, yeah? Without bringing the rest of your family in, not even a risk of it.” 

David nods. “Can I think about it?” 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t expect nothing less.” Gary grins easily at him. “You allergic to dogs?”

“No…?” 

“Perfect. Got someone for you to meet then, before you make the call. You’re gonna love him though, ain’t nobody dislikes JB.”

David grins helplessly. The rest of the drive is pleasantly quiet, car rumbling over the road. Gary’s hand finds David’s eventually and their fingers slot together with an almost unnerving ease. David bites his cheek to keep his grin from being just this side of smitten. Vicky would take the piss out of him if she could see him now. 

So much has happened in two days, and in the two or so months prior. After everything—Thornton Circus, St. Matthew’s College, all of it—there were times that David thought he’d never feel normal. Waking up in the morning was a never-ending trial; not even the screaming laughter of his kids could help. Not even Vicky, who was so sorry when she had no need to be, who was so kind to David after everything. Even as some things slotted into place, things like less night terrors and feeling less nauseous after therapy, David still had this lingering sense of unease. 

Meeting Gary has changed that. David feels excited and terrified in equal measure. It feels like a _good_ thing.

“You alright?” 

“You keep asking me tha’,” David retorts.

“Not an answer, bruv.”

“I’m fine, Gary.” David thumbs over Gary’s still-healing knuckles. “Just thinking, that’s all.” 

“Thinkin’ awful hard then.”

“Gary,” David says, tone firmer. “I’m fine, truly.” 

Gary nods after a moment. “We’ll drop you off with Vick and the kids, yeah? You got my number if you need sum’fin.” 

“Of course.” He can already see the house coming up in the distance and his stomach lurches. Not that he doesn’t want to see Vicky, or Ella, or Charlie—in fact, the idea of not seeing them every single day is enough to make him want to tuck and roll out of the car. It’s not even that he’s unsure of what to say to them, because he’s had plenty of experience keeping his mouth shut either because of “classified information” or his own stubbornness. He’s not quite scared but he’s not quite unafraid, either. 

“You look like you’re about to spit, mate.”

“Gary, I’m _fine_.” David’s voice comes out so much sharper than he intends, and he takes his hand from Gary’s to scrub it over his face. He and Gary had slept for a disgusting twelve hours and David still feels exhaustion tugging at him like a bad itch. He somehow misses his usual, fitful six hours of sleep. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

“S’alright, guv.” 

They’re pulling up at the house now and David can see Vicky lingering in the kitchen window. David doesn’t want to leave like this, with his last words being venom-ridden because of his own insecurities. His therapist would be pleased, he thinks, with his own self-awareness. It sucks, he decides, to be self-aware. 

The car comes to a stop but Gary’s clearing his throat before David can reach for the handle.

“David, look at me, yeah?”

David does, though it takes him a second to drag his gaze from the floor of the cab to actually meet Gary’s blue gaze.

“I get it, you know that.” Gary has undone his seatbelt and is sliding closer. He cups David’s cheek, a reflexive move for the both of them now. “I ain’t mad or upset, alright? I know this is a lot, trust me, I fuckin’ know.” Gary presses his forehead to David’s. “Just go be with your family, for now. Call me when you’re ready.” 

David kisses Gary when it becomes clear he isn’t going to initiate it. Gary’s muffled noise of surprise is confirmation enough, and it makes David grin against his lips. 

“Alright,” he agrees. “I’ll call ye soon, okay?”

“No rush.”

David doesn’t argue. He just slips from the car and trudges up the walkway to the house; yet again, Vicky’s got the door open before he ever hits the first steps. 

“About time!” Vicky drags him into a hug as soon as he’s within arm’s reach. “You’re going to tell me what happened, alright? With that coffee shop of yours, it’s all over the news.” 

“Happened before I showed up,” David lies, hedging since he’s not entirely sure what the news is reporting. “Gary wasn’t working, either. I came home an’ he called me up, asked for a chat. Left you the note, he and I met up for a bite, ended up staying late, and then…”

“Then you spent the whole night with him?” Vicky asks. Her expression morphs from worry to a teasing grin. 

“Nothing like tha’, Vick, c’mon.” David ducks his head. “He introduced me to some of his friends, that’s all.” 

Vicky’s staring at him like she doesn’t believe him; it’s a look he’s well familiar with by now. But bless her, she lets it go.

“I’m glad you’re safe, David.” Her voice trembles as they undoubtedly think back to the same thing: the vest, the dead man switch, the pure fear inside them both. 

“You too,” he says. 

Vicky kisses his forehead. “Kids are waiting in the living room for ya, go on.” 

Sure enough, Ella and Charlie are waiting for him and crow with delight when he crashes onto the couch between them. Something settles in his chest, warm and easy, as Charlie cuddles up to his side and Ella lays her head on his shoulder. Vicky stops by the back of the couch to drop a kiss to the top of David’s head, and everything feels _right_ , even if there’s a whole world of unknown waiting for David, just hinging on him making a single phone call. 

Later that night, as they’re brushing their teeth in front of the double vanity before David retires to the spare room that’s become _his_ room over the last several months, David waits until Vicky spits and starts to rinse her mouth before speaking. 

“I’m moving out,” he says, then cringes.

Vicky pauses in swishing the mouthwash around. She looks at him in the mirror and he stares back, nervously still brushing his teeth. Vicky spits, grabs a quick drink of water by cupping her palm under the spout, and says, “Shouldn’t talk with your mouth full.’

She doesn’t leave, though. She leans her hip on the marble countertop and waits for David to finish his own routine before speaking again. “You’re moving out? With Gary?”

David doesn’t answer immediately; he’s scrambling to navigate the truth and lies he never took the time to craft inside his head. “Not like that,” he says eventually. “He’s got a spare room.”

“I’ve got a spare room.” 

David nods. “I think...I think a change would just be good.”

Vicky stares at him. “I think so too,” she tells him quietly. “Just be careful, alright? And you know the door is always open, here.” 

David smiles. He leans in and kisses her forehead, holding her close with a hand on the back of her neck. He inhales deeply, the scent of her floral shampoo mingling with the minty toothpaste. It’s a scent of comfort, but he no longer needs to cling to it to feel sane, not like he did in the aftermath. 

“When?” She asks, following him to the spare room. 

“Tomorrow?” David says, voice ticking up at the end even though he’s already made up his mind.

“You sure?” She’s teasing him. 

“Yes,” he says, and it even surprises him, how much he means it. 

Vicky nods. “Need a hand? I can take the day? Get the kids to help?”

“No, that’s alright. I’ve just got tae call Gary an’ his friends will help.” After a moment, he adds, “Bunch of lazabouts, they are.” 

Vicky cracks a smile. “You call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Of course, Vick.” 

They hug, and Vicky clings to him a little tighter than usual, and he clings right back.

Gary kisses him first thing the next morning, on his doorstep. David makes what can only be described as a ‘meep’ of surprise when Gary’s arms fling around his neck. Somewhere behind him is a long-suffering groan that’s already becoming familiar. 

“Get a room, you two,” Merlin says, shoving Gary aside to shake David’s hand and then coolly slip past him. “We havenae got all day, now.”

David’s cheeks are burning but the goofy grin Gary shoots him makes it worth it. 

“Merlin’s just sour cuz no one’s kissing ‘im like that,” Gary tells him. 

From upstairs, Merlin shouts back, “Desk duty for a month, Galahad!” 

“Sod off!” Gary hollers back, still grinning. “C’mon then.”

David steps back and lets Gary into his house. They take the stairs together, pace leisurely despite the sounds of Merlin already bustling around upstairs. Behind them, a few other agents wander in, none of whom David knows and none of whom offer up introductions. He looks to Gary, but the man only shakes his head.

“You sure you don’t wanna meet JB before movin’ in? He’s not easy to live with, I’ll be the first to tell ya that.”

“I don’t mind dogs.”

“He don’t bark much or nothing. Just a snorty little thing.”

David laughs softly as they finally come upon his bedroom. “Should be fine then.” 

Moving goes swiftly, far better than any of the other dozen or so times in David’s life that he’s had to pack up boxes and haul them into a truck. The agents whose names he still doesn't know help immensely, all of them strong and quick, moving swiftly under Merlin’s watchful eye. He’s fiddling with a clipboard and tapping at his glasses in between barking orders.

By the end of it, David feels guilty for having hardly broken a sweat, but Gary reassures him with a gentle kiss. 

“They don’t mind, mate. Agents help each other, yeah?”

“I’m not an agent,” David reminds him as they clamber into one of the two cars parked outside David’s house. One is full of his boxes and things, all the stuff that had to absolutely come with him; that car also has the other agents, and Merlin. The car holding David and Gary is just the two of them, and the driver separated by a plane of dark glass. “Where are we going, anyway?” 

“The shop, first. Harry’s insisting we get you fitted for your first suit, and start gettin’ you comfortable at being a tailor. The boys will get your stuff loaded into my place.”

“Kingsman wastes no time, eh?” 

Gary smiles. “Nah, not really. I figure the sooner they get you all involved, the less worryin’ they’ll do.”

“I signed the paperwork,” David says, though he knows as well as anyone what that means to some people.

“So did our old Arthur, and he got himself poisoned by yours truly.” Gary shrugs. There’s a brittle edge to his grin, a story David doesn’t know and doesn’t feel entitled to ask after quite yet. 

They pull up to a shop David doesn’t recognize except for the Kingsman sign above the door, with a little line of smaller text stating when they were established. Gary leads him inside, saying, “Fitting room one, Dagonet,” as they go. Dagonet snorts but nods, and Gary takes him into a fitting room. 

“What’s all this, then?”

“We do actually do a bit of tailor work, you know,” Gary replies. He shrugs out of his track jacket. “I’m going to measure you, yeah? Bit rusty, so go easy on me.” 

David lets Gary push him to the center of the room in front of the large mirror; Gary seems to pull a measuring tape from nowhere and a tense silence falls over the room as Gary gets to work. He’s professional and sure in his movements, though sometimes David catches his gaze in the mirror and they share a little grin. 

“I know this is a lot,” Gary says as he makes notes in a little notepad he also pulled from who knows where. “Overwhelming.” 

“It’s not quite the strangest thing that’s happened tae me.”

“Sure that’s not a dissociative episode talkin’, guv?” 

David considers the question. “Might be the strangest thing,” he amends. “But far from the worst thing.” 

The rest of their time passes quietly; the only sounds that fill the air are the rustle of clothes and Gary’s quiet instructions to turn this way or that, lift your arm, breathe in, now out, so on and so forth.

By the end of it, David’s starving. For food, and for a touch from Gary that isn’t meant for measuring, and for a place to settle and relax. The last three days have gone by in a blur and if David thinks about it too hard, his head might start spinning. 

“We can get takeaway on our way back to mine, yeah?” Gary says when they’re finally leaving the fitting room. He passes the notebook full of measurements to Dagonet before facing David again. The tips of his ears are pink as he says, “Or, er. Ours, I guess.” 

David’s heart flutters in his chest. 

_Ours._

For all people like to tell David he’s resistant to change, he finds it’s almost exceedingly easy to adapt to this new way of life. 

He takes the spare room in Gary’s perhaps absurdly large house just down the road from Stanhope Mews, and life goes on. David wakes up each morning, showers when he can muster the energy, dresses in one of his now three bespoke Kingsman suits he owns, and the driver waiting outside every morning takes him to the shop. Any morning, evening, or simple spare moment they can, Gary and David seek the other out to steal a kiss or two or twelve. Some days there’s time for a cuppa with Gary before they both go in; other times (often times) Gary is away on some mission or another, returning at all sorts of odd hours and never once disturbing David if he can help it. 

David knows better than to doubt the dangerous nature of Gary’s profession, having lived a somewhat similar life once. It’s almost more unnerving, particularly after having seen Gary every single day for two months, to only see him once or twice a week if they’re lucky. It sounds absurd when David thinks about it; they live together for fuck’s sake. 

But David doesn’t want to intrude or take more than he’s owed. He understands in his core that what Gary is doing is important. He’ll take a saved world over dinner together...most days. 

It really probably shouldn’t be half as surprising as it is, the day Gary walks into their home looking like he’s about to drop dead. He’s grinning a blood-slicked smile and his suit, which David knows by now should be bulletproof, knife-proof, just-about-everything proof, is torn almost to shreds.

David’s only mildly ashamed that the first words out of his mouth are, “Why are you no’ at Medical, fucking hell Gary!”

Gary, for his part, looks chastened. “Here was closer, I got all the stuff to fix meself up, done it before. I didn’t think you’d be home, love.”

“It’s seven in the evening, Gary.”

Gary blinks. “Shit. Really?” He groans and stumbles further into the house; he doesn’t even protest when David hurries forward to help him. “Thought it was more like, four or sum’fin.”

“It’s not even daylight anymore.” David shakes his head, fondness for this man warring with his fear. “C’mon, I’ll run ye a bath.” 

The walk upstairs to the master bath is a long one. David reluctantly leaves Gary in the bedroom while he goes to draw the water. He putters around for a moment, taking the time to look at the sort of soaps and bottles hanging around. The knock on the doorframe doesn’t quite startle him, but close. 

“I’m starkers, so if you don’t wanna see that, bruv, you best shut your eyes.” 

David averts his gaze for a moment and Gary seems to take David’s silence as an answer. Once Gary steps into the bathroom, however, David can’t help but look. It’s not even a sexual thing, particularly not with the bruises and nasty cuts littering Gary’s body. 

Gary gives him a weak, cheeky grin, and meanders over to the bath. David keeps staring, ears burning and tongue dry and dead in his mouth, as Gary turns from him and gives him a grade-A view of his arse. 

“Jesus,” David breathes. Gary laughs. “Where, where’s your damn first aid kit?” 

“Under the sink.” Gary sinks into the steaming water with a sigh. “I didn’t want to alarm you,” Gary says as David digs out the kit from the cabinet. 

“So you were just goin’ tae come home, stitch yourself up, and what? Not wince every time I tried tae kiss you?” 

Gary sinks lower in the bath. His response of “Maybe” comes out as bubbles in the hot water.

“You’re an idiot,” David tells him. The fondness in his voice gets Gary to smile, at least. Silence lapses as David works about cleaning Gary up, stitching or bandaging up what he can and hoping Medical will take care of the rest in the morning. He helps Gary out of the tub with only a little bit of blushing; Gary slips into a plush white robe and David helps him to the bed. 

“Stay?” Gary asks.

“I’m no’ going anywhere, you loon.” David sits on the bed beside Gary, both their backs pressed to the headboard. “You don’ have to hide all this from me, ya know.” David gestures to Gary, his gaze lingering on an especially nasty cut across the man’s collarbone. At least it’s stopped bleeding. “I’m not goin’ tae lose it if I see you cut up.” 

Gary sighs, slumping slightly against David’s shoulder. “I know, guv. I’ve read your file, yeah?” 

David waits.

“You already know I never meant to get you mixed up in none of this. Me comin’ home worse for wear after a mission is just another fuckin’ thing I never wanted you to see.” 

“I barely see you as it is, Gary,” David says. “I’d rather see you sporting a black eye and _alive_ than you skirting around the shadows like a spooked cat.” 

Gary looks up, the stubble on his cheek scraping against David’s damp t-shirt. “Really?”

“I didn’t move in with ye _just_ because of the Kingsman nonsense, you know.” David shifts slightly and Gary answers him by sitting up straight. “The two months at the coffee shop were...good. A better time than I’ve had in fuck knows how long. I moved in with ye because I think you’re wonderful, even if I still have a lot to learn about you, an’ your job, an’ tailoring.” 

Gary smiles. “Guess I’m kinda fuckin’ this up, aren’t I?”

“I didnae tell you sooner, that’s on me. It’s been a month and a half of living here, I could’ve spoken up at any time.” 

“We’re both nobs then,” Gary says definitively. 

David laughs. “Guess so.” 

Gary relaxes against him again. “I guess m’just so used to hidin’ all this, from mum and Dais, yeah?” 

“Still havenae met them,” David reminds him with a grin. 

Gary groans. “Mum’s been on me to get over for dinner. Think you’d be up for tha’?”

“Don’ see why not.” David drops a kiss to the top of Gary’s head. “I get the hiding thing, ye know. Plenty well. But ye don’ need tae do that with me.”

Gary nods, almost more like nuzzling against David’s shoulder. “Got it, bruv.” 

They sit like that, in comfortable and companionable silence, until Gary’s stomach growls. 

“When did ye last eat?”

“You gonna be mad if I say I can’t remember?” Gary gives him a sheepish grin.

David rolls his eyes. “I’ll call for some takeaway. You stay here.”

“Nah, c’mon, help me back downstairs. See what’s on the telly or sum’fin.” 

David helps Gary out of bed and they take the stairs slowly. He leaves Gary on the plush couch in the living room before slipping into the kitchen for some water. While he’s at it, he dials their favorite takeaway place, orders their favorite meals, and then returns to Gary with two tall glasses of ice water. 

“Thanks, love,” Gary says. 

David sits close beside him. “I’ve missed you,” he says, though he didn’t really mean to. In his head, his old therapist’s voice rings out _“honesty is the best policy.”_ His new Kingsman-appointed therapist hasn’t said anything similar, but David doesn’t know if that’s because it’s unnecessary or if it’s a Kingsman thing. 

Gary looks at him and blinks, surprised. “What?”

David slowly slides his arm along the back of the couch, resting gently against Gary’s shoulders. “Missed you,” he repeats. “I know we live together, but I’ve barely seen ye since I moved in.”

Gary blinks again and David can practically see him going through his memories of the last month and a half. When he’s evidently finished, he half-shouts, “Fuck!” The look he aims at David is frantic and crazed, and of course that’s when the doorbell rings. 

David leaves his glass of water on the table and escapes to the foyer. He signs the receipt and takes the food from the delivery gal before shutting the door. With his hands full of two plastic bags of takeaway, he comes back into the living room. He’ll deny it if anyone asks, but the way he walks could perhaps be considered _slinking_. He’s not ashamed to have admitted the truth to Gary, but he’s not exactly eager to shake things up, even if things being settled had left them both unsatisfied. 

“I’m so fucking sorry, bruv,” Gary says as David sits again. Gary takes the food from him and sets it on the coffee table with their waters. “I didn’t even fuckin’ realize, _fuck_.” 

David opens his mouth but he can’t say _“it’s fine,”_ because it’s not. “I know ye are,” he says instead. “I didnae say anything sooner because I didnae want tae interfere.”

“How are we so bloody bad at this?” Gary asks with a hysteric laugh. “We were fuckin’ aces at it for two whole months!”

“We had one date in those two months,” David reminds him.

“At least the rest was spent flirtin’!” Gary’s pink in the cheeks and ears and it makes David’s heart skip a beat. “An’ one date in two months is better than none in a month and a half!” 

“There’s still time.” David leans in slightly, drawn in by Gary’s wide eyes and beautiful flush. They haven’t had a night-in like this, ever. The rush of being close to Gary again, of nothing pressing like meetings or missions or whathaveyou waiting for them, is heady. “You’re gonna be on medical leave for at least a week, right?”

“Probably longer.” Gary lays a hand over his own side, wincing. “Medical won’t let this one slide.”

“Good.” David scoots closer still, until their legs are pressed together from thigh to knee. “Let’s take advantage of it, then. Before they send you off on another suicide mission.”

“Ain’t none of them suicide missions, bruv!” Gary’s laughing though and swaying into David’s space. “That’s a good idea, though. Why didn’t we think of it sooner?”

“Saving the world is busy work,” David says. He and Gary are almost close enough to kiss now. The heat in the room has spiked at least ten degrees. For all that things had felt _fine_ , if stale before now, being in Gary’s orbit again is so much _better_. “Fuck, _why_ didn’ we do this sooner?” 

Gary laughs again. “We’re both idiots, yeah? We established this.” 

And then Gary kisses him. It starts gentle and sweet but the hunger overwhelms them both. David tilts his head and one of Gary’s hands locks in his hair, tugging gently. It’s better than the kiss on the street, the day before the explosion. It’s better than all the quick kisses shared since David moved in, none of them quite enough to sate the desire that David’s been steadfastly ignoring.

“Fuck, David,” Gary gasps. “Takeaway’s gonna get cold.” As if cued, his stomach growls and David snickers. Gary changes his tune quick, “Nah, forget the takeaway, c’mon.”

“No, no,” David chides as he leans back. “I’m almost certain Medical would have my arse if I let you get up to any _strenuous_ activities.” He grins at Gary, the expression growing wider in the face of Gary’s surprise. 

“I swear, sometimes it’s like there’s a whole other side of you. A fuckin’ naughty one, too.” Gary makes a feeble attempt to flatten David’s hair into something less mussed. “But fine, have it your way.” 

David nods approvingly. 

So they eat, and watch stupid telly, and then David helps Gary back upstairs. They take long enough to change out some of Gary’s dressings, then a tension fills the master bedroom as Gary climbs into bed and David hovers uncertainly near the foot of the bed.

“You don’t hafta,” Gary tells him. “But I sure wouldn’t mind, ya get me?” 

David shoves at his jeans and clambers into the bed with an urgency that makes Gary laugh. Their bare legs tangle under the sheets and Gary curls close to him, just as he had in his quarters at Kingsman. 

“Yeah, this is already better,” Gary says, voice slurring with sleep. “God, we’re fucking stupid.”

“Made for each other, even,” David says. His voice is barely above a whisper, spoken against Gary’s scalp.

It doesn’t go unheard, though; Gary would be a shit spy if it did. His smile is like the gentlest of brands against David’s neck.

And so, yet again, David’s life changes. And, as is the continuing trend, it changes for the better. 

He moves out of the guest room and into the master, where he and Gary sleep every night they can. He comes over for Sunday dinners at Michelle’s even on the Sundays when Gary is away, because Michelle’s quite taken with him, as is Daisy. Gary even comes by Vicky’s a time or two, when David manages to drag him along—those dinners aren’t quite as easy-going, despite Vicky’s best efforts. He loves her dearly for trying but, just as he frequently tells Gary, only time will warm Ella and Charlie up to him.

He learns how to be a tailor rather swiftly, and Gary even lets him design a suit; similar to the time Gary had measured him, that day in the fitting room is charged with electric energy. Dagonet sends them home immediately after, even though Gary has to return later for another mission briefing. 

In between it all, the missions and the family dinners and such, he and Gary make time for one another. There’s still something fragile and new about the whole thing; it’s rather like unwrapping a present achingly slow, for all the details he learns of Gary and all the pieces of his life he shares in return. They spend nights on the couch, reading or watching the telly or simply necking like teenagers. They spent lazabout mornings in their bed, kissing and touching with a fervor David hasn’t felt in far longer than he cares to admit. It’s not all shiny and pristine, though, because Gary is still a fucking spy and still comes home looking like he lost a fight with a meat grinder. 

It’s not perfect nor is it ever quite _easy_ —certainly not as easy as the two months at the coffee shop had been, real and fake in equal turns—but David rather enjoys it.

“You’re thinkin’ too hard, love,” Gary says, muffled against his shoulder. “Can hear it all the way over here.”

“All the way,” David repeats with a grin. He turns slightly and runs his hand over the jut of Gary’s hip. “Just thinking about you, is all.”

Gary perks up slightly at that. “Really now?” He grins lazily, eyes still shut and crusted with sleep sand. He’s not exactly picturesque but David feels smitten all the same. “Do tell.” 

David shakes his head with a laugh, pressing a kiss to the smack middle of Gary’s forehead. “Nothing in particular. Just you, and us.” 

Gary hums and buries his face against David’s shoulder once more. He’s drooling again, already halfway back to sleep. “Tell me about it in the morning, alright? Wanna hear what’s in that head of yours.” 

Gary’s asleep so quickly, David couldn’t point out the fact that it’s already morning if he wanted to. He does relax into the bed, though, and winds his arms around Gary even though the one underneath his body will surely go to pins and needles before long. He doesn’t quite know how to articulate his thoughts to Gary, not without sounding rambling and nonsensical. He feels so much—a stark, startling contrast to feeling _too little_ so often before—and it’s all happened so fast.

It’s been a measly eight months since David walked himself into the poor coffee shop. Eight months since Gary teased him, apologized, and teased him some more. Eight months since the chance encounter that veritably altered David’s life forever.

He buries his face in Gary’s hair, grown out and lovely blond for the incoming spring, and wonders if a nice breakfast spread will get him out of talking about his feelings. 

Gary snores softly, and David thinks probably not. 

He’s surprisingly okay with that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David knows better than anyone that life enjoys taking a downward turn, just when everything feels as though it might be falling into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter with the heaviest focus on David's PTSD, mental health issues, and the canon typical violence.

“How are the nightmares?” Vicky asks over a late-night drink after the kids have gone to bed. “The episodes?” 

David pauses with his drink partway to his lips. “Er.”

“You seem better,” Vicky hurries to say. “Seems like you’re sleeping better. Happier.” 

David considers the question. “I am better,” he says slowly. “Gary helps. The new job helps. Still have nightmares, of course. Haven’t had an episode yet.”

Vicky’s eyes widen. “That’s great, David.” She reaches out and lays her hand over his resting on the dining table. “I’m happy for you.”

David allows himself a small smile before hiding it in another sip. “Thanks, Vick.” 

First, it’s a mission in the states. David doesn’t even know the details of Gary’s mission until Gary is calling him, voice thin with blood loss. Merlin’s shouting and David assumes he’s screeching through the other comm line in Gary’s glasses. David thinks he might hear Harry, too, but he doesn’t really care about that.

“Gary,” David says. His breath is coming shallow in his chest. “Are you alright?”

“Tip top, bruv,” Gary replies in an overly cheery voice. “Never better.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“M’stable, right Merlin?”

“Shut the fuck up an’ wait for Whiskey tae get there.” 

Gary groans softly and Merlin seems to take that as agreement. 

“He’ll be fine, lad.” This time, Merlin is clearly addressing David. “Whiskey is two minutes out, and there are no enemies incoming. I told Eggsy he didnae have to call ye, could’ve waited until he was back at Statesmen.” 

“Fuck off,” Gary says. “If I wanna call my boyfriend, I’m bloody well going to do so.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Merlin says in a tone full of exasperation. 

David doesn’t even know what to say. His heart is still heavy in his throat from panic, and it’s taking a while to simmer down. “Christ, Gary.”

“Sorry, love,” Gary says. He says that a lot. Like David might actually blame him for his job. “Be home soon, yeah? No more than a couple days.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure about that,” a heavily accented voice joins the conversation. He sounds further away. “Bleeding like that is gonna take a bit to heal.” There’s a click, a rush of air, Gary hissing before letting out a sigh of relief. “That’ll keep you stable till we get you back to Ginger.”

“Thanks, Whiskey, you’re the guv’nor.” Gary groans softly. “Gotta go, love.”

“Alright,” David says. “Call me when ye know when you’ll be home.”

Gary makes an agreeable noise before the line goes dead.

Then it’s a mission in Brazil where a scorpion bite almost kills Gary before Roxy can administer an antidote. After that, it’s a mission in Germany where, David learns later, Gary narrowly avoids a gunshot to the head but doesn’t avoid a bullet to his knee. Then it’s France (stabbed just shy of his heart) and then Japan (nearly poisoned by the target) and then Canada (a garrote around his neck that leaves a thin scar along his throat). 

Constant missions and constant close calls and David isn’t mad but he’s starting to feel restless. He knows he can’t do anything, and that only makes it worse. He’s not field trained, certainly not for Kingsman work. He wouldn’t even consider himself completely stable, mentally speaking. He’s still a work in progress, still healing, and even though Gary always comes home to him, David can’t stop thinking about the inevitable moment when Gary _doesn’t_ return. 

But David doesn’t say anything, because what could he say? Stop doing your job, Gary, and stop doing it so bloody well? Right, as if that’s reasonable. Besides, he’d rather be in the know about Gary’s missions than left in the dark like he was before, so somehow this is better than the alternative. David just goes to bed alone most nights and wakes up in panicked sweats that are only soothed by the warmth of Gary’s sleeping body beside him, and the cycle repeats and repeats and repeats. 

“Mission is running a little late,” Gary says, regretful.

David looks at the takeout he’d picked up on the way home, having been assured by Gary that he’d be landing at the Kingsman airstrip by the time their egg rolls were getting boxed up. He’s not even mad—how could he be, when Gary is saving the world? Hard to begrudge a man for that. “Alright. I’ll stick yours in the fridge then.”

Gary sighs. “Sorry, love.”

“S’alright,” David says, and he means it. “Is the mission going well, at least?”

“Better, but not as well as I’d like, ya get me?”

David hums in agreement. “Come home safe?”

“Course love,” Gary says, a smile in his voice. “Don’t wait up.” 

David eats his takeout food and packs Gary’s food and his own leftovers away in the fridge before heading upstairs. He showers and changes into pajamas in a haze, and climbs into bed. He stares at the wall, unseeing. He’s not mad, truly; he feels helpless, like he could be doing more, but he’s stuck here, waiting for Gary to come home. To _hopefully_ come home. 

David groans and tucks his face against the pillow. 

David’s aware from the moment the footfalls hit the top floor. Panic surges through him knowing whoever is inside the house got in and upstairs without David realizing, so he reaches into the bedside table for his gun without thinking. He doesn’t roll out of bed; he tucks the gun under his pillow with a white-knuckle grip around it and waits with bated breath. The floor creaks again, and he catches the whisper of a bitten-back swear. Sweat is beading at his temples and starting to roll down his cheeks and he’s shaking like a fucking leaf under the covers. 

The bedroom door squeaks as it swings open and that’s when David acts. He swings his arm out and aims his gun at the doorway and shouts, “Freeze!” 

“David!” 

The voice is familiar but he can barely hear it over the buzz of panic in his ears. He slips out of bed swiftly and approaches the shadow near the door, a man swathed in black. “Stand down.”

“I ain’t armed, David! Babe, it’s me!” 

David cocks the gun and takes aim.

In the time it takes him to breathe and blink, he finds himself disarmed, on his front on the carpet, arms wrenched behind his back. There’s a knee digging into his spine and he can see his gun a few feet away, clip removed and even further away. He struggles in the hold until hot breath washes over his ear.

“Love, it’s me, it’s Gary, yeah? Just gettin’ home late from the mission.” He speaks low and slow, careful, like David’s a spooked animal.

With that thought, realization and shame wash over David like a tidal wave. He turns his face and presses it against the carpet; tears are welling up and burning at his sleep-heavy eyes. He lets out a shuddering sigh and goes limp in Gary’s hold. 

“That’s it, love.” Gary presses a kiss to his temple. “It’s okay, you’re safe. You’re okay.” 

David doesn’t move, even as Gary lets him go and backs off. He sighs into the carpet. Shame weighs him down like an anchor in his chest. 

“David, c’mon. Up y’get.” Gary grabs him under the arms and hauls him up with only a slight grunt. Gary deposits him on the bed and his hands roam over David’s face, wiping at his sweat and tears. “I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna take care of the gun, yeah? And change into something that’s not this suit. It’s fucking rank.”

David doesn’t nod. He watches with unseeing eyes as Gary collects his gun, the clip, and brings them both into the bathroom with him. David listens to the dull thuds of Gary’s suit hitting the tiled floor, the brief run of water and the muffled sounds of his lover drying off. Gary wanders back into the room stark naked, unabashed, and digs out a pair of loose trackies before coming back to David.

“You with me?”

David shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he rasps.

“No, no, no, David, you’re fine.” Gary drops to his knees and his hands roam David’s body like he can wipe away all the trauma and panic filling him up from the inside out. “S’fine, really. It was bound to happen sometime, yeah?” 

David closes his eyes. “Can we sleep?”

Gary doesn’t answer right away. Eventually, David opens his eyes again to find Gary staring up at him, eyes painfully earnest. “Will we talk about this in the morning?”

David wants to say no, but he nods.

“Swear down?” 

That gets a smile out of David. “Swear down,” he mimics. 

Gary’s face softens and he leans up. He pauses for a moment before David nods and then they’re kissing. Gary cups his cheek and keeps it sweet and simple, chapped lips on chapped lips. They break apart with identical sighs. 

“Let’s go to bed,” Gary says. He pushes back and David lets himself be tucked in, caught between feeling infantile and terribly well-cared for. Gary simply climbs over him, all grace, and settles on the other side of the bed. 

“Alright if I touch you?” Gary asks after a beat of silence.

“Yes.” David swallows. He doesn’t tense as Gary throws a careful arm over his chest and scoots closer. David clings to him after a moment. He tucks his face against Gary’s hair and inhales deeply. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. 

Gary doesn’t reply except to kiss the hollow of David’s throat. 

David wakes when Gary slides out of bed a few hours later, early in the morning. He doesn’t get out of bed himself and instead watches through slit eyes as Gary changes into a pair of boxers and a loose-fitting tee before slipping out of their bedroom. David waits and listens as Gary walks downstairs, into their kitchen. He’s making a deliberate amount of noise, David knows, and it’s both comforting and irritating. 

David breathes and forces his emotions under control before finally getting out of bed. He takes a shower first, because he still feels raw like an open wound; he doesn’t even know if it’ll help, but it feels like a safer bet than facing Gary quite yet. He strips as he goes and turns the shower to scalding hot. He stands under the spray until his skin is a deep, painful pink. 

When he gets out and exits the bathroom, there’s the scent of bacon and eggs wafting up from the kitchen. David gets dressed and by the time he hits the bottom of the stairs, he’s grinning faintly.

Gary looks up from the pan when David steps into the kitchen. “Hey, love.” 

“Morning.” David stops at Gary first, kissing the back of his neck, then beelines for the coffee pot. He fills the largest mug they own—one emblazoned with a picture of JB on the side—to the brim and brings the steaming cup to his lips. He drinks it until his stomach is warm and his tongue a little burnt; both feelings bringing more awareness to David, more sensation. It keeps him tethered to the earth, same as Gary’s quiet humming behind him. 

David sits at the table and watches as Gary dishes them both up plates heaping with bacon, eggs, toast, and a little potato scramble. They both dig in after brief smiles, and Gary’s kind enough to wait until David’s done eating before saying—

“So, last night?” 

David sets his fork aside. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what I’m asking for, David.” Gary’s voice is so fucking soft. “I just want to know that you’re okay.” 

David looks down at the crumbs and grease on his plate. “I am now.” He sighs. “I heard you reach the top floor last night, and reacted on instinct.”

“I know. We talked about this. I’ve always known it was a possibility.” Gary reaches out and lays his hand over David’s. “Do you wanna see about maybe setting up an appointment with someone in the agency’s psychiatric department?” 

David bites the inside of his cheek. He’s been doing fairly well lately. He’s actually surprised it’s taken this long for an episode to hit him so badly. He’d tapered off his appointments with the therapist he’d been seeing—also part of the agency—but he nods at Gary’s question. “I think that would be good. My next one isn’t for another month or so.” 

Gary nods. “You can come on the tube with me, we’ll get you to HQ and get it set up, yeah?” 

David nods again. “Thanks,” he manages to say. “For breakfast, too.”

Gary only smiles at him, a bit weak, his eyes a little watery. “Of course.” 

Things go back to normal pretty much immediately after. It’s lovely, but also extremely disconcerting. David sets up appointments with his same therapist from before, weekly ones, and after two appointments he sits Gary down at their kitchen table.

“Everything alright?” Gary asks. He’s grinning, besotted, at David, but there’s an undercurrent of worry in his eyes. 

David only stares back at him. “You’re not scared of me,” he observes.

Gary’s brow furrows. “Of course not.” He tilts his head. “Is this because, because of your episode? Mate, you know I got my own shit going on in my head, night terrors and shit. Why the fuck would I be scared of you?”

David opens his mouth but no words come out at first. Then, “Vicky always was, after outbursts.” 

“She didn’t understand, and that’s nothing against her. But I get it, ya know? Better than anyone, probably. I know you’s ain’t you when it happens, and I’m not gonna hold it against you.” Gary stands and comes around the table. Seamlessly, he slides into David’s lap. The chair strains under their combined weight but David wraps his arms around Gary’s waist regardless. “You don’t scare me, David. Don’t think you ever could.”

David tucks his sigh of relief against Gary’s neck. Tears are pricking at the corners of his eyes but they don’t fall, stopped by the feeling of a weight being lifted off his chest. He holds Gary tight. “Fuck,” he murmurs. “I’m.” He stops himself from apologizing again. “Fuck, thank you, Gary.” 

Gary rubs at his back. “Course, love.” 

David’s at his weekly session, fingers still sore from pricking himself with sewing needles, when there’s a knock at the door. The person on the other side doesn’t wait for an answer before entering, and David’s blood runs cold to see Merlin strolling in. There’s a murderous look in the man’s eyes and David’s heart jumps into his throat. 

“David,” he greets. “Eleanor,” he says with a nod to the therapist. “I’m afraid I’ll need tae steal your client for the remainder of the day. You know I would not interrupt if it wasnae extremely important.” 

David’s already out of his chair and it’s only Eleanor clearing her throat that keeps him from bolting from the room.

“Same time next week,” she says in a kind but stern tone. “And we’ll tack on an extra half hour, to make up for this.”

David nods then follows Merlin out of the room, quick on his heels. “What’s happening?” He asks once they hit the hallway.

Merlin shakes his head. “Come along. Harry’s waiting for us. “

David’s mouth shuts with a click and even though questions are starting to fill up his chest like a balloon about to burst, he obeys. He lets Merlin guide him through HQ—it’s still a place David has trouble navigating on his own, aside from getting to Eleanor’s office from the tube. They come upon the ornate doors that David still has seared into his memory from his first day there, and sure enough Harry is waiting inside the large office. 

“Gentlemen,” he says with a nod. “Roxanne is patched in over the comms.” On cue, the screen above the fireplace comes to life and shows Roxy’s face.

“Hello,” she says. She’s got a nasty bruise swelling under her left eye and a determined fix to the line of her mouth. 

“David,” Harry starts. “I think you’ll want to sit down for this.”

David opens his mouth to reply, something sharp and snappy, but Merlin moves to open the window and it’s all David can do to fall into the seat nearest to him. “What’s happened to Gary?” He asks. 

Harry’s gaze doesn’t waver, even as he does look remorseful. “He’s been kidnapped.” 

David’s vision immediately starts to tunnel. Despite the fresh air crashing into the room it feels like David’s lungs are full of smoke and ash. Instantly, this is worse than all of the previous missions because injuries can be treated, kidnappings—kidnappings are less certain, even with other agents being dispatched to help. 

He swallows and forces himself to stare back at Harry, even as it feels like he might be sick all over the pristine mahogany table.

“What happened?” He asks. His voice trembles. 

“He was on a mission in Italy, tracking a drug smuggling ring.” Merlin’s tapping at his tablet as Harry speaks. “He was approaching the warehouse we believed the group to be operating out of, and he was going to slip into what we had identified as an empty room.”

David’s starting to have trouble breathing but he needs to hear this, so he pushes the sensation away. “Why didn’ they just kill him?”

“They hacked into his glasses feed for a few minutes. Don’ know how they managed it,” Merlin says with a grimace. “The glasses are meant to only work for each agent, but they managed it all the same. Locked them out after only thirty seconds or so, but we believe whatever they saw was enough for them to consider Eggsy worth more alive.” 

David nods. A chill is settling in his veins that’s sapping his energy, his emotions, and his voice is a little too flat when he speaks again. “That’s good,” he says. “Better kidnapped than dead.”

“Quite,” Harry says, although he doesn’t sound pleased. David doesn’t hold it against him. “We already have a plan ready to execute. Roxanne is flying out to Italy as we speak. We know Eggsy’s last location even though we had to disable his glasses. We don’t believe they’ve moved yet, although we can’t rule it out.”

The words are out of David’s mouth before he can think. “I’m going with.” 

Merlin and Harry immediately share a look that tells David they already saw this coming. 

“No,” Harry says simply. “You have not been trained in our field work, and I do not believe even if you had that you’d be fit for field work.” 

“Like Gary was fit for field work after watching you die?” David slams his mouth shut after the words slip out. “Fuck.” He hides his face in one hand. 

Harry doesn’t speak right away. Silence fills up the room and threatens to choke David, but Harry eventually puts him out of his misery. “Eggsy would never forgive me if I put you in danger.” 

David bristles. “I’m not going tae just sit by and twiddle my fucking thumbs!” 

Harry’s eyes narrow but David doesn’t wilt. “You will continue your appointments, and your training, and Roxanne will bring Eggsy home safe.” 

David stands and for a moment, he seriously considers going over to Harry and decking him. He doesn’t think he’d get more than a few steps in before something would take him down, like a knockout dart from a watch, or a well-placed punch to his gut from either Harry or Merlin. He has no illusions about his skill up against theirs. He’s rusty, and was never trained to be a fucking secret agent. They’d get the upper hand without breaking a sweat. 

He grits his teeth, turns on his heel, and lets the ornate doors slam shut behind him. 

Merlin finds him out in the gardens later.

“David,” he says. 

He nods. 

“Here.” Merlin extends a hand out to him and in his grasp is a pair of sleek, familiar, black frames. 

David stares at them. He takes them only after Merlin sighs, and even then, he only holds them in trembling hands. “Merlin,” he starts. 

“Harry’s going tae kill me for this.” Merlin tilts his head toward the sky and murmurs something that sounds like a rather blasphemous prayer. “Roxanne has already been briefed.”

“Won’t Harry know?”

“Not until you’re touching down in Italy, at the very earliest.” Merlin taps away at his clipboard. “Those glasses, like all glasses for agents, are attuned to your DNA. They shouldnae react tae anyone else. I’ll be watching so I can kill the feed, same as I did for Eggsy’s.”

David stares down at the frames. He thumbs over one leg of the glasses before slipping them on. There’s no prescription but the mainframe comes up quickly, identifying plants around, identifying Merlin, giving David a report on the weather and, in the furthest corner, a reflection of his own vitals. 

He looks to Merlin, who looks faintly pleased. “Welcome aboard,” Merlin says, “Sagramore.” 

He detours to the shop and the armory. Dagonet leads him into one of the fitting rooms and presses his hand to the glass. He takes him through a quick explanation of all the various gadgets before leaving David to his own devices. 

He pockets three grenade lighters, slips a signet ring onto his ring finger, snags a pair of brogues, and grabs two guns to keep in holsters on each ankle. He strips off his jacket and slips on a shoulder holster and for a moment, admires how the lines of the holster are completely invisible once his jacket is back on, then grabs a rainmaker as an afterthought. It’s a foreign weight in his hand, light like a pistol but longer, more like a sword—something David’s never handled. 

He hooks it over his wrist, leaves the fitting room, and heads back to the tube. 

Merlin gets him on one of the numerous private gets and in the air in no time; he doesn’t relax the entire flight over, partially because he’s never much enjoyed planes, but mostly because he can’t stop thinking about Gary. 

Roxy meets him at the landing strip and they nod politely at one another. “This way,” she says. The plane wastes no time taking off again and it ruffles their hair; a few yards away sits a bright teal vespa. 

“Not exactly subtle,” He observes. Roxy swings a leg over it first and pats the space on the seat behind her. 

“Anything duller and we’d stand out more,” she says. 

David reluctantly smiles and situates himself at Roxy’s back, arms around her waist. She waits until he’s settled before they take off. The darkened streets of the city go by them in a blur and David has to wonder…

“Is the vespa Kingsman issued as well?”

Roxy snorts but it’s a voice over their comms, chiming from their glasses, that answers him. 

_“It is indeed, Sagramore.”_ Harry’s voice is smooth and clipped. _“How kind of you to join the mission.”_

“I wasnae going to just—?”

_“Sit around and twiddle your thumbs, yes, Sagramore, I’m aware.”_

“Sir,” Roxy starts.

_“Lancelot,”_ Harry cuts her off. _“Keep him safe, and bring both him and Eggsy back.”_

The comms buzz with sudden silence. 

“Merlin,” Roxy says. “You’re going to owe him for a long while.”

_“It’ll be worth it when you both bring Galahad home in half the time it would’ve taken you to do it alone, Lancelot.”_

David nods to himself. 

“Ready, Sagramore?” 

David steels himself, wind whipping at his cheeks. “Ready, Lancelot.” 

The warehouse, out in an empty countryside of Italy, looks at once unassuming and hilariously out of place. David grits his teeth as he and Roxy take it in from their vantage point on a shrubbery-covered hill not far away. His glasses zoom in and enhance the view and he sighs for the umpteenth time in the last hour. There doesn’t appear to be any movement, no lights on. No one coming or going. No sign of life except the birds sitting on the roof’s edge. 

“Settle,” Roxy tells him when David shifts restlessly again. “Tonight we’ll make our move.”

“If the warehouse is empty, we find what we can and go from there,” David recites, both from the mission dossier he’d read on the jet and from the numerous times Roxy had quoted it to him. She’s just trying to calm him down, he knows that. He’s just fairly certain that until Gary is safe and sound, David won’t relax even an inch. 

“He’s fine,” she says. “He’s tough. There’s nothing they could do that he wouldn’t be able to handle.”

David nods, nods, nods until he’s dizzy. Roxy doesn’t touch him but instead snaps her fingers in front of his face. It’s jarring but it snaps him out of his looping thoughts. 

“I need to know _you_ can handle this.” Roxy’s eyes are hard, familiar in their intensity. It’s a look David remembers wearing, and seeing on other soldiers. “I will leave your arse tranq’d here, if I have to.” 

David doesn’t laugh but the weight on his shoulders lightens momentarily. “I can handle it.” 

“You’re absolutely certain? Even if we don’t find anything? Even if we find the worst-case scenario?”

His skin crawls at the thought but he nods. He swallows the bile rising in his throat. “I can,” he says. “I have to.” He looks at the grass beneath them until he no longer feels so boxed in and tense. He looks up to see a gentle smile on Roxy’s face.

“Eggsy is lucky to have you.”

David tries to smile but he thinks it might come out as more of a grimace. “I really do hate that you lot call him that.”

Roxy laughs, a soft noise that sounds like the leaves rustling around them. 

The first floor of the warehouse is clear, as are the second and third floors. As they’re creeping into the fourth floor, David’s stomach feels as though it’s somewhere around his knees and his heart is thudding uncomfortably in his throat. His hand doesn’t shake where it’s gripped around his rainmaker, not as he trails behind Roxy, turn after turn. They clear room after room until they come up on one with a slightly ajar door.

He and Roxy share a look and over their comms, Merlin says, _“Tread carefully, I can’t get a reading for the inside of the room.”_

They nod and then Roxy’s pushing the door open and they’re slinking inside.

There’s a shadow slumped in a chair at the far side of the large, otherwise empty room. There are no windows in the room, and the lights overhead are too dim to be useful, but David doesn’t need the night vision in his glasses to know it’s Gary across from him, seemingly unconscious. The room is suspiciously devoid of people, and Merlin’s cautious, _“Careful, agents,”_ is redundant to David’s own paranoia. 

He and Roxy creep across the room, their footfalls silent across cracked concrete. Gary doesn’t stir the closer they get. Roxy raises an eyebrow at David and he nods, gesturing her forward. While she tends to Gary—because David knows full well he wouldn’t be able to focus if he got too close—David turns around to face the door they came in. 

Dim light from the hallway spills into the room. There are no shadows of agents, villains, other such things. David’s paranoia only ratchets up higher, more intense, like a buzzing in his ears that threatens to deafen him. Everything is too quiet and too still. 

Roxy’s voice makes his jump. “He’s alive, Sagramore.” 

David lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Good. Can we extract him?” 

“Yes.” There’s the soft sound of ropes hitting the floor, Roxy groaning as she gets one of Gary’s arms around her shoulder. “Give me a hand?”

Before David can take a step back, there’s a burst of noise from the bottom floor, along with Merlin’s calm, measured voice saying, _“They were in a bloody cellar, coming in fast, three dozen heat signatures at least.”_ David throws a look over his shoulder at Roxy who looks as annoyed as David feels. 

“Take the fire escape, Lancelot,” David says and watches Roxy’s face morph into indignant outrage.

“I’m not _leaving_ you. Eggsy would have my arse if I let you die!”

“I’m not going tae die,” David says, although he doesn’t feel as certain as he would like.

“Bollocks. You’re not trained in this. You take Eggsy and get the hell out of here.” 

The thundering sounds of footsteps coming up the stairs gets louder, accompanied by shouting and errant gunshots. _They’re amateurs_ , David thinks. _Lackeys. Whoever’s running the operation isn’t here._ A quick shared glance with Roxy tells him she’s thinking the same thing. 

She hitches Gary’s arm over her shoulder a little better and pulls him to limp feet. She’s only struggling slightly under his weight. “If you die, I’m going to kill you.”

David nods, and then he’s taking off for the door. Merlin gives him updates on numbers and positions and David absorbs it without responding. It’s alarming, he thinks idly, how swiftly he sinks into this. It’s almost too easy to charge through the crooked door frame into the stairwell, raise his pistol, and fire a shot right between the eyes of the lackey charging ahead of the rest. The man’s eyes glaze over and his body tips back, crashing into two behind him and sending a half dozen more tumbling down the stairs like bowling pins. 

From there, it’s a blur. All muscle memory, even if the muscles are sore and a bit out of practice. It takes some adjusting to not immediately dodge the bullets coming at him and instead trust that his suit will hold. The bullets hit like sucker-punches but they’re easy enough to brush off and keep moving. 

He takes out the fifteen or so men in the stairwell as quickly as he can. Merlin’s keeping him updated on Roxy and Gary—down the rickety fire escape with only minor scrapes and bruises, off into the field to head toward the rendezvous point. It keeps him going, keeps him focused, keeps him putting bullets between people’s eyes and taking out their kneecaps and slamming his elbows against their noses and and and—

David comes back to himself in the cold, Italian evening air. He’s back on the hill he and Roxy were at only hours ago and she’s looking up at him with something like awe. Not fear, not uncertainty—more awed, but even more than that, unreadable. She is a spy after all.

_“What the bloody hell was that?”_ Merlin asks in his ear. _“Eggsy hasn’t been sneaking you onto the training course, ‘as he?”_

David doesn’t grin. The metallic scent of blood overwhelms his senses. He looks down at his hands, shaking. “Christ,” he murmurs as he drops to his knees. “I don’t know...I don’t know what happened.” 

“We’re safe. Eggsy is safe.” Roxy shuffles closer, her hands held up placatingly. “You’re safe, David. Extraction is an hour out, at max.” 

David doesn’t respond other than to nod. A few feet away, Gary is lying unconscious, freakishly still except for the rise and fall of his chest. David watches the rhythmic motion like it’s a metronome, and after a while, Roxy stops trying to coax responses out of him.

He’s not sure how much time passes, but David assumes it’s the hour Roxy promised. It’s a small jet, albeit not small enough to be subtle even in the wide-open field, but David doesn’t much care. Two paramedic agents come bustling out and load Gary onto a stretcher, and Roxy follows them in. David trails a few steps behind. He stops just before entering the jet and looks back at the warehouse, lights dark and seemingly undisturbed. Except he knows the carnage hidden inside.

_“Sagramore, get on the damn plane.”_

David steps inside, saying, “Yes Merlin.” 

He stays vigilant at Gary’s bedside for the next two days. Roxy is kind enough to stop by their flat and care for JB, since David had declined the offer to bring him to HQ. The poor pup would only go ignored, as David finds he can’t bear to take his eyes off Gary. Even blinking is a struggle, as though Gary might get kidnapped in the time it takes for David to wet his eyes.

The nurses had been forced to do David’s own exam at the foot of Gary’s bed, because he refused to leave even though Gary was deep in a medicated sleep. Nothing more than typical bumps and bruises for David, aside from one deeper scrape from a bullet that grazed his ankle as he’d reached for the gun in its holster. The gash is stitched up and slapped with an ointment to accelerate healing and decrease scarring, and David is prescribed some labeless but no doubt strong painkillers that he won’t be taking. 

Gary isn’t much worse off. While the lackeys left behind— _the ones I slaughtered,_ David thinks, feeling sick each time—were definitely amateurs, it appears whoever was in charge of the warehouse was as well. Gary’s bruised, beaten, face purple and swollen but nothing broken and no internal bleeding. His scrapes are ugly and scabbing and he lost a bit more blood than is healthy, but the nurses assure David after a good long, medically assisted sleep, Gary will be up and about in no time. 

Merlin’s best guess at what happened is the room Gary dropped into just happened to be full of the exact wrong people, and getting the jump on them turned into them getting the jump on Gary. It seems that they simply tied him up, beat him up, and when they couldn’t get any answers out of him, decided to lay in wait.

“We’re searching for where the leader might have gone,” Merlin tells him early the morning Gary is due to wake up. “But as of now, it seems they are laying low along with the rest of the organization, no doubt with their tails between their legs. 

There’s a note of approval in Merlin’s tone that sours into something gentler when David feels his own face blanch. 

“I’m sorry, David,” Merlin adds, quieter. “I never intended this to happen.”

“Gary’s safe,” David replies. His throat aches with disuse. “That’s all that matters.”

For now, Merlin doesn’t argue, but David knows this isn’t the end of the conversation. It’s only on pause, and Gary takes that moment to wake up.

David stands and, admittedly, looms over Gary as the other man wakes slowly, groggily. 

Blue-green eyes surrounded by swollen skin peer up at him. “Love, wot’re you doin’ here?” He’s slurring a bit, the residual drugs keeping him hazy. 

“You’re safe,” David croaks. “I.” He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t very well tell Gary he went across the country to save him and slaughtered three dozen people in the process.

“Gathered tha’,” Gary mumbles. “Merlin’s here, you’re here. Course m’safe.” 

David smiles in spite of himself. It takes a conscious effort not to squeeze Gary’s hand and feel his pulse thudding beneath his skin; instead he links their fingers and watches Gary’s eyes flutter. “Sleep,” David says. “Give it a few more hours.”

Gary hums, and then he’s slipping back into sleep. David practically falls into his chair. Merlin’s hand rests on his shoulder for a moment before the other man is slipping from the room, door snicking shut behind him.

David’s asleep the next time Gary comes to; David only knows this because he wakes to the sensation of gentle fingers combing through his hair and sits up with a start.

“Took you long enough,” Gary says with a grin. “You never sleep through that. You must be exhausted, love.” 

“I’m fine.” He sits up a little straighter and leans into Gary’s orbit, pleased when Gary leans in as well and they kiss. It’s a careful thing, mindful of Gary’s still swollen cheek.

“What happened?”

“Ye were kidnapped,” David murmurs. He brings a hand to Gary’s cheek and thumbs over the heated skin. “Roxanne and I…”

Gary’s eyes widen in understanding before David even finished. “What?” 

David is filled with the urge to drop his gaze and shrink in his seat, but he resists it. “I wasnae going to let Roxy go alone. And it’s a good thing I did, she wouldn’ have gotten you out otherwise.”

Gary’s eyes narrow. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“He’s not, lad.” Unsurprisingly, Merlin strides him. A pace behind is Harry, looking sour as ever. David hasn’t actually seen him since he left for Italy, and while he doesn’t feel bad for his decisions, he doesn’t feel great either. “It was my decision.” 

Gary opens his mouth but Harry clears his throat. “Without David’s assistance,” he starts, “We very well may not have been able to successfully rescue you. There were over thirty lackeys hiding in the basement, and while you know I am the last one to doubt Roxanne’s abilities, she would’ve been hard pressed to avoid or take out the enemies while getting you to safety.”

David marvels at the fact that Harry sounds genuine—not angry, or begrudging...David might even say pleased. 

“We couldnae have done it without him,” Merlin confirms. 

Gary looks at a loss and David squeezes his hand. “Love,” David says. “Look at me.”

Gary does. 

“It’s fine, really.”

“Sagramore will be attending therapy twice weekly, once you are released from Medical,” Harry chimes in, which is news to David.

“He’s got a fuckin’ codename?” Gary barks. 

“Ubiquitous, virtuous…” Merlin doesn’t look embarrassed, although David _feels_ embarrassed. He hadn’t even thought to look up the history of his namesake. “Hot tempered,” Merlin adds.

“David isn’t hot tempered!” Gary actually sounds pissed at the implication, and David almost laughs, but Harry interrupts that too. 

“Tell that to the thirty men he took down.” 

Gary chokes on his next breath and whips to face David. “You fuckin’ serious?” 

David finally drops his gaze to his hands. They’re trembling again. 

“Haz, Merls, get the fuck out.”

David, from the corner of his eye, notes that neither man looks surprised at being addressed. Merlin nods slightly and Harry strides from the room quick and business-like. Merlin pauses at the door and seems like he might say something, but then he’s gone too.

“David,” Gary says. His voice is even and soft. David finally drags his eyes up again to stare at his lover. “Answer me honestly, yeah?”

David nods.

“You alright? I dunno the specifics, obviously, but you can bet your arse I’m gonna watch the video feed of the mission. But I gotta know, are _you_ alright?”

David lets out a long shuddering breath. “Been better,” he admits. 

“Oh, fuck.” Gary reaches for him and drags him close in a hug. “Oh god, David. I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

“You’re alive,” David manages to say. “It was worth it.”

Gary hisses, his breath hot against David’s face. “Not gonna argue with you, love. Fuck.” 

“Gary.” David leans back. “I didn’t love it, alright? But tae be honest, I barely remember it.”

“That’s not _better_ , David, Christ.” 

“It is, though. I barely remember it and you and Roxy are safe and that’s all that fucking matters to me.” 

Gary pulls back and presses a hand to his good eye, while his still swollen eye waters. “Harry is right, therapy twice a week, yeah?”

David nods. “I don’t disagree.” A chill runs down his spine as vague memories come to him: blood spattering, bones snapping, the cool air hitting him and the scent of iron on his suit. “I couldn’t just sit by and wait to see what happened.”

“I know, David. You think I don’t get that? But I can’t lose you neither, yeah? You get me?” 

David leans up and kisses Gary again; it’s salty and bittersweet, until Gary throws his arms around David’s shoulders and drags him closer. The kiss deepens briefly, until David leans in too close and Gary lets out a quiet gasp of pain. 

“How long till I can leave?”

“No more than a day,” David says. “Your kidnappers weren’t very extreme.”

“Could’ve taken them if one hadn’t thrown a bag over my head when my back was turned and kicked out my knee.” Gary scowls. “Swear down, I’m never gonna let this happen again.”

“You cannae make that promise, Gary, and we both know it.” 

Gary smiles sadly. “M’gonna try.” 

David kisses his forehead, his good cheek, the corner of his mouth. “I love you,” he murmurs. 

“I love you too. If you ever go into the field again, I’m gonna kill ya.”

David, a bit reluctantly, laughs. “Roxy said something frighteningly similar to me during the mission.”

“Good girl,” Gary says approvingly. 

Healing is a slow process, not only for Gary but for David.

Eleanor gets right down to it at his next session after the mission and David’s as thankful as he is unhappy. He was hoping to avoid his inner thoughts for at least a little while longer. 

“So, you killed over thirty men on your last mission.” 

David doesn’t choke on his sip of tea. “Aye” he says.

“And how are you faring?”

“Been better,” David admits, same as he did to Gary. 

Eleanor nods. “Understandable. I’ve read the file, and while you performed very well, it is certainly concerning. Merlin mentioned to me that you do not remember the act itself?”

“Only bits and pieces,” David murmurs. “Flashes.”

Eleanor makes notes on her clipboard, similar to the one Merlin always carries around, and hums thoughtfully. “We’ve discussed your distaste for violence before, as well as your desire not to get into the thick of fights if at all possible. I know you love Gary, but what motivated you to take on this mission? It goes against everything we’ve discussed since you arrived.”

David stares down at his hands and considers the question. “I don’ know,” he says softly. “I just couldn’t let Gary be out there alone.”

“Roxanne could’ve handled it,” Eleanor says. Her tone is perfectly even, not combative at all, but irritation spikes in David’s blood. He wills it away. “You and I both know she’s a very talented agent.”

“Aye.”

“So look deeper. Why did you _need_ to be on _this_ mission? Gary has had countless others that, by all accounts, were considerably worse than this.” 

David swallows and his throat clicks, dry. He sips at the cool tea in the porcelain cup and forces himself to swallow it, even as his body revolts. He swallows two deep mouthfuls, draining the teacup, and holds it in his trembling hands. “He’s had an especially bad string o’missions lately.” 

Eleanor simply stares back at him, eyes gentle but intense. 

“I had an...incident.” David’s voice cracks as he speaks. “Few nights before his latest mission.” 

“Elaborate, please.” 

David breathes deeply, tries to calm the racing of his heart. “He got back from a mission in the wee hours of the morning, and I pulled a gun on him.”

Eleanor’s eyes widen. It would be imperceptible if David didn’t know what to look for, all too aware of how people’s expressions change when faced with his trauma. “I had wondered why you moved up an appointment, back then. But why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Embarrassed.” David tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling. “An’ afraid.”

“That’s alright, David.” Eleanor makes a few more notes on her clipboard. “What happened that night?”

“I reacted on instinct.” The words start coming, soft and slow, but they get easier. His chest feels lighter as he speaks. “Pulled the gun I keep in the bedside table and threatened to shoot him if he didn’t stand down...Gary told me after that he kept saying it was him, asking me to realize. He had to pin me and get the gun away from me before I came out of it.” David clenches his hands into fists and presses them against his thighs. 

“Do you know what triggered the incident? Besides Gary coming home.”

David shakes his head. “I don’ know,” he says again. 

Eleanor taps at her clipboard and her gaze finally drops from David’s face to her lap instead. She taps and taps and taps and part of David finds it soothing and another part wants to take the clipboard and throw it against the nearest wall. The only break is when Eleanor asks him to confirm the date of his incident, and then the tapping begins again.

“Looking at Gary’s records, he had several high priority missions in the weeks leading up to your episode.” Eleanor scrolls long her clipboard. Her lips do this thing, quirking to the side, parting slightly. David has come to recognize it as especially thoughtful. “And I take it these missions, and the injuries Gary sustained during them, were especially stressful for you?”

“Of course,” David replies, wincing when his voice comes out sharper than he intends. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Eleanor’s lips twist into a wry grin. “What have I told you about calling me that, David?”

David nods, a smile of his own pressing at the corners of his mouth. “Sorry,” he repeats. 

Eleanor hums approvingly. “I think it was a stress reaction, which I’m sure I needn’t explain to you is typical of someone in your position. Frankly, it’s surprising it took you so long to have an episode. That’s very promising, David. You’ve come a long way.” Eleanor gives him a softer smile. “I’d like to increase your dosage of sertraline a bit. Even though Gary is off missions for at least two weeks, and therefore you shouldn’t be quite as stressed, I think it’d be safest to start now so that your body has adjusted by the time Gary returns to missions.”

David nods. “Alright.”

“You know where to pick up the order, of course. Should be ready before you head home for the day.” Eleanor taps at one last thing before dragging her gaze back to David’s face. “Now, let’s discuss you and missions.”

“What about it?”

“You’ve got a codename now, you could in theory work towards being put into agent rotation, if you so choose. I don’t think being an active field agent is outside the realm of possibility for you, David, it would simply take time and effort.” 

David shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s something I want.” 

Eleanor holds his gaze, steady and sure. “I think it is, and I think you’re scared. Which is perfectly understandable. I’m not suggesting they fly you out to Morocco or Alaska this week, or even within the next year. I think it’s simply a goal that we could work towards.

“It would be beneficial in case something like Gary’s most recent mission happens again, and you want to take on the mission. I doubt, despite Merlin’s soft spot for you and Gary, that he would allow this to happen again. Arthur certainly wouldn’t.”

David nods along. 

“But to be trained and ready, wouldn’t you agree that would be beneficial?” 

“Yes,” David says. “But…”

“Think about it,” Eleanor commands gently. “Talk it over with Gary, and with Merlin. Hell, even Roxanne. Just consider the option, if nothing else so you can be prepared in a worst-case scenario. Alright, David?”

David swallows, tongue feeling leaden and heavy in his mouth. “Alright,” he agrees. 

“Thank you, David. I think that’s enough for one day. I’ll see you Thursday, yes?”

“Yes, Eleanor.” David stands, nods to Eleanor as he always does—swallowing the still persistent urge to call her “ma’am”—and strides quickly from the room. He walks and walks until he can stumble into the first loo he finds. He locks the door behind him and slides down to the floor with his back against the door. 

His heart is hammering and his thoughts are spiraling but—but he’s not afraid. Not as much as he thought he’d be. The idea of being prepared, _able_ to go save Gary if the need arrives, or accompany him when no one else is available...it’s appealing, to say the least.

Gary’s going to hate it. Harry’s going to hate it. Merlin and Roxy will probably think it’s bloody wonderful. 

David presses his palms against his eyes and breathes deep. 

_I can do this,_ he thinks. _No rush. No pressure._

_I can do this._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things finally start to settle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! 
> 
> I struggled with this chapter sooo much, but eventually decided that rather taking you guys bit-by-bit through the rest of David's journey that got us to this epilogue, which I think would get boring fairly quick, I decided to speed things up a bit and jump forward. 
> 
> Huge thanks again to everyone who cheered this fic on! Hopefully someday I'll write more for Buddsy, because there's still so much I could say about them.
> 
> I hope you've all enjoyed this ride!!

“Left, Lancelot,” David says. “Low ceilings and then a sharp right one meter down.”

_“Thank you, Sagramore.”_

David nods to himself, eyes trained heavily on the screen before him. It’s a low-stakes mission—because David is still new to his tentative role as a handler—but David’s blood is pounding as if he was in the thick of it himself. He listens to Lancelot’s even breathing and the nearly silent sound of her sturdy kitten heels hitting concrete flooring. She follows his instructions and takes the sharp right turn with enviable grace.

David inhales deeply before saying, “Thirty feet ahead there will be a vent on the ceiling, should already be shaken loose. Follow that up to the roof for extraction.”

_“Oh good, I just love being crammed into small spaces.”_

David smiles. “Can’t say I’m sorry, Lancelot. It’ll get you out quicker than the stairwells.”

_“No bloodshed,”_ Roxanne says as she pulls the vent cover open, the loose bolts scattering to the floor around her and the noise tinkling over their communications. _“I don’t know whether to be proud or disappointed.”_

“I’ll take ye out for an afternoon on the firing range to make up for it. Keep your accuracy sharp.”

_“As if it’s ever anything less.”_ Roxanne grunts and her voice, quiet as it is, reverberates in the tinny tube as she climbs. _“This was almost too easy. Keep this up and Arthur might want to see about cloning you.”_

“Don’t you dare mention that to Galahad, he’d never let it go,” David says with a sigh. Roxanne’s laugh answers him. 

The rest of the mission, all twelve minutes of it, is quiet. No talking as Roxanne maintains her stealthy climb to the roof, and David focuses on the heat signatures in the building. None of them are remotely near Roxanne, so he’s not overly concerned, but it’s his job to keep an eye on these potential threats.

His attention shifts when the sound of loud winds fills the comm lines instead and a quick look through Roxanne’s glasses tells him she’s made it to the roof. “Don’ suppose I need to tell ye that your ride is here.”

_“No, Sagramore,”_ Roxanne says in a voice full of a cheeky grin. _“I can handle it from here. If my watch is still right, Galahad should be home any moment now, hm? Tell him I say hello.”_

“Of course, Lancelot.”

David mutes the comms but doesn’t disable his video feeds of Roxanne or the building she’s leaving. He watches as the helicopter touches down on the roof for precisely as long as it takes for her to clamber inside before it takes off again. The goons in the building have heard the helicopter and are beelining for the roof, but none of them will ever make it in time.

Even so, David doesn’t properly sign off until Roxanne and her extraction pilot are twenty minutes away from the building. He drags off his headset and glasses, rubs at his eyes, and doesn’t jump when two hands land gently on his shoulders.

“Love,” Gary says. He bends and brushes a kiss to David’s head. “Looks like that went well.”

“Mm,” David hums agreeably “Easy stuff, hardly had to do anything.”

Gary steps back and turns David’s chair around to grin at him. “She couldn’t have done it without you,” he says seriously.

The urge to deny it, to hoist the praise onto Roxanne, or to simply say _“any handler could’ve done it”_ is strong. David swallows it and says, “Thanks, Gary.”

Gary grins at him and kisses him. David melts into it. It’s been a week and a half since Gary left for his last mission. Simple infiltration, easy in-and-out that ended up complicated by the overly suspicious wife of their target. Gary’s no worse for wear other than the exhaustion around his eyes, but it’s outweighed by the glee turning up the corners of his mouth.

“Missed you,” Gary says as he nonchalantly slides into David’s lap. The chair creaks under their weight. Gary’s arms wind around David’s neck and he sighs, pleased. “How long’s the rest after this one?”

“Four days minimum, since ye worked your last two back to back.” David’s arms circle around Gary’s waist to keep him in place. “Maybe longer, if nothing comes up.”

“Brill,” Gary murmurs with a yawn. “Fuckin’ beat.” 

David doesn’t protest when Gary practically goes liquid in his lap, sleep overtaking him quick. It’s a light sleep, he can feel every moment Gary wakes up briefly, but by the time Merlin stops by David’s room to tell them both to go home, Gary looks well-rested. He sways on his feet and David keeps an arm around his waist as they walk under the pretense of keeping him upright.

“Glad you’re home,” David says as they get situated on the tube that’ll take them back to the shop.

Gary gives him a tired smile. “Me too, love.” 

It hasn’t been an easy time. Training for Kingsman was world’s harder than anything else David has ever done—not only the physical and intellectual testing, but learning how to be a handler. Memorizing maps and keeping his cool while watching people he’s come to care about run headfirst into the line of fire. That’s not even to mention the mission he ran where Arthur was in the field; it was nothing more than simple reconnaissance, but that didn’t stop David’s fingers from shaking every moment he didn’t have them curled into fists. 

The mission had gone well, though—and for once, Harry had looked at David with something warm and kind in his eyes. 

On top of it all has been the therapy, sessions with Eleanor that vary from incredibly successful to feeling as though he’s taking ten strides backwards. Then there’s the long nights of insomnia at odds with sleeping for fourteen hours at a time. Episodes where he wakes up in a sweat, or forgets where he is, while standing in the middle of the kitchen, or when his stomach churns hard enough that even blinking makes him nauseous. 

There are the sunny days spent with Daisy, Gary, and Michelle, or the ones spent with Vickie and the kids. Some are better than others, because Michelle eyes David suspiciously, and Vickie is almost too kind to Gary, to the point of being a bit awkward. It’s a process to adjust and to mesh his two families together as best he can. 

But he’s getting through it all, step by step.

“What’re ye up to?” David asks, voice thick with sleep. 

Gary grins against his chest. “Nothing,” he says, as clever fingertips dance along the waistband of David’s sleep pants. 

“You’re a terrible liar, love.”

Gary sucks noisily at David’s hip; the skin burns hot for a moment in the aftermath of the lovebite left behind. “M’not doing nothin’. Just showing my handsome boyfriend a good time, is all.” 

“It’s not even half eight,” David says. “We’ve got the next week off, why in god’s name would ye wanna be up so early?”

Gary finally sits up slowly, grinning at David. He looks so lovely perched in David’s lap, bathed in the early morning, golden glow of the sun. “Got a long day planned for us.”

David groans but his hands find Gary’s hips eagerly. He thumbs over the jut of his hip bones and waits, but Gary doesn’t speak. “Well?” 

Gary’s smile is coy. “You realize what today is?”

David closes his eyes and tries to think. Days are still fuzzy sometimes; the passage of time isn’t quite linear in David’s head. It’s something he’s come to accept, something Gary has come to accept as well. He soothes himself by gripping Gary’s hips and rolling up against the warm heat of his lover’s body. “I’m lost,” he admits. The tips of his ears burn in shame.

Gary only beams at him. “S’alright, didn’t think you’d remember anyway. It’ll be a fun surprise, then,” and any protests David might have (not that he has _any_ ) are swallowed up by a hungry kiss from Gary.

“Gary, I think I’m about done with this,” David says as his hand twitches toward the blindfold around his eyes. 

“Okay, love, we’re about there anyway. You can take it off.” 

David doesn’t hesitate to yank the silky blindfold from his face and immediately, his chest feels less constricted and his breathing easier. Gary slows his pace and David matches him; first Gary grins at him, and they spend a long moment simply staring at one another, before Gary nods ahead of them. 

A familiar green door waits a few paces ahead and realization dawns on David like a shot to the head. 

“Christ,” he says faintly. “Has it been a year already?” 

“Yep,” Gary confirms, delighted. “Kingsman helped the owner get back on his feet and they were recently able to reopen for business. Thought it’d be a fun trip down memory lane.”

David stares at the door and his ears ring with the chime of the bell when it would ring overhead. He thinks of the first time he saw Gary behind the counter, the first time Gary sat with him, their first date...and, inevitably, he thinks of the bomb. 

“Unless it’s too much. It’s too much, in’it?” Gary’s rambling now, looking flustered and upset. 

David clenches his hand where it’s linked with Gary’s. “It’s fine, love. Wonder if they kept my chair.”

Gary stops his chatter abruptly and his lips split into a blinding grin. “Yeah?”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” 

Gary nearly yanks David’s arm from his socket with how quickly he takes off. After a dazed second, David hurries after him, and they stumble into the coffee shop laughing. It draws a few stares, but David can’t find it in himself to care. They amble up to the counter, but before David can open his mouth, Gary orders for them both—some overly sugary concoction for Gary, and a black coffee for David. 

David’s gaze flits around the shop as Gary pays, and sure enough tucked into the same corner is the plush armchair that David remembers so fondly. He turns to catch Gary watching him with a fond smile, and Gary nods. David unlinks their hands and makes a beeline for the chair before anyone else can take it.

He sinks into the familiar cushion with a sigh. The scent of coffee grinds and fresh baked pastries is generic enough that his anxiety isn’t set off, and the decor inside is different enough that it hardly feels like the same shop. He’s lucky to have only good memories associated with this chair, and he digs his fingers into the fabric and lets the comfort wash over him.

Like a year ago, Gary sits on the coffee table in front of him and passes the black coffee over before sipping at his sugar monstrosity. “Doing good?” Gary asks softly.

David takes a long sip of his coffee, lets the bitter heat wash over his tongue, and nods. “I’m great. Perfect, even.”

“Dunno about that, bruv. Can’t have you gettin’ a big head now, can we?” Despite the teasing edge of his voice, there’s a twinkle in Gary’s eyes that seems to say _yes, you are_.

“Me? Egotistical? Hardly. Think you’re thinkin’ of yourself, love.” 

Gary squawks indignantly. “Wanker!” 

David simples smiles and brings Gary’s hand to his mouth, brushes a kiss over his knuckles. Sure, things aren’t perfect; every day is an uphill battle from the day before. But he’s got Gary, and Roxanne, Merlin, even Harry; he’s got Eleanor and all of Kingsman to help him. He’s got Vickie and the kids. He’s come a long way from dissociating in a coffee shop.

“David?” Gary’s voice breaks through his thoughts. His tone is tinged with worry. 

David grins again. “I’m fine,” he says again. “Are _you_ fine? I know some _ace_ meditative techniques.” He mimics the messy drawl of Gary’s own accent, and the other man makes another indignant cry. 

Gary doesn’t miss a beat, though. “Really now?”

“You probably know ‘em all already.”

Gary’s grin is fond and bashful, tilted down as if he’s hiding, except for the way he stares up at David from under his eyelashes. “I’m glad I ignored Merlin shoutin’ in me ear to take a chance and talk to ya that day.” 

David’s heart flutters in his chest; it practically seems to beat into his throat in a way that’s somehow, impossibly _wonderful_. He can’t think of a response—one that details how grateful he is for Gary, how lucky he feels sometimes, how he doesn’t know where he’d be if it weren’t for that fateful day a year ago. All of the thoughts leave him tongue-tied and his thoughts twisted up, so he simply says—

“Me too, love. Me too.”


End file.
